


Foolin'

by piraninjedi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Case Fic, Drama, Explicit Sexual Content, Human Castiel, M/M, Reincarnation, Romance, Season 3, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 12:37:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 68,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/622216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piraninjedi/pseuds/piraninjedi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean was cursed in a previous life by a witch. He has three lifetimes to earn the love of an angel, or his soul will belong to the witch for all of eternity. It sounds generous, but there’s only one problem: angels don’t exist. Castiel was assigned a top secret mission—find Gabriel. But in order to do so without alerting Michael or Raphael, he has to Fall. Now he has to find Gabriel and avoid angels, all while learning what it means to be human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story drove me crazy! I started working on it way back in April and almost gave up after experiencing writer's block several times throughout, not to mention real life and all its insane happenings. But I kept on, figuring I already made it this far, so why quit now? Crazy ramblings aside, go check out sharys_aogail on LJ because she made some beautiful art for this story and I can't thank her enough!!

__

_1345 - Rome_

Max grinned as he picked up a small pebble.  He took aim, watching as it hit the shutter on the second floor.  He waited a few moments as a dim light flickered and the shutters were opened.  A young woman, pale with red hair, leaned out the window.  “Max,” she gasped, a smile stretching her full lips.  “I thought you would not show.”

“My Rossa, I longed to be here sooner,” Max said, “but Al would not sleep.”  His younger brother demanded that Max tell him stories of ancient heroes until he fell asleep.

Rossa smiled, her pale blue eyes sparkling in the candlelight.  “Well then, you better hurry up here before someone notices you.”  She said and turned away from the window, leaving it open.  Max quickly scaled the house, reaching the second floor window and slipping inside, closing the shutters behind him.

He had been trying to seduce Rossa for a week now, ever since he saw her.  He was no stranger to sex and knew from rumors that she was not either.

When he turned around, he found Rossa standing at the edge of her bed, her clothes discarded.  She smiled at him, beckoning him closer.  He complied, shedding his own clothing before taking her gently.

“Beautiful,” he said later, gazing into Rossa’s eyes.

She smiled coyly, “I am sure you say that to all the women.”

Max returned the smile, green eyes raking her form appreciatively.  “Only you, Rossa.  Only you.”

It was a lie, of course.  Were he to speak the truth, it could end disastrously for him.  He certainly did not want an angry father after him.  He left just before the sun rose, returning to his small home.  His father gave him a stern look as he entered.  “I was just checking the—”

“I do not wish to hear it, my son.  Get washed up and meet me in the shop,” his father intoned before leaving the house.  Max let out a sigh, before changing into a fresh pair of clothes and washing his hands and face.

“Where did you go?” Al asked as he stumbled out of bed, brown hair sleep-mussed and yawning.  He was barely twelve and still rather small for his age.  Max had a feeling that he would hit a growth spurt soon, and knowing his luck, Al would be taller than he.

“I could not sleep, so I took a walk,” Max said.  It was not a complete lie, he was unable to sleep without going to Rossa, and he had taken a walk.  “Now, get some food into you and get dressed or you will be late for your lessons.”

Max grabbed a chunk of bread before leaving the house and heading towards the shop.  His father was a blacksmith, well-known throughout the city of Rome.  Max was grateful to learn the skill, and hopefully inherit the family business when he was older.  His little brother, however, had a thirst for knowledge.  Al was apprenticing for the Church, ever eager to learn.

A blonde woman bumped into him as he was turning the corner.  “Oh, I am sorry,” she said.

“No, the fault was mine,” Max responded easily, smiling.  The woman was beautiful, possibly even more so than Rossa.  He felt arousal pool in his groin.

“But I insist,” she said, leaning close and Max could smell her perfume.  “Let me make it up to you…”

“My name is Max.  I have somewhere to be, but if you wish, meet me here at sunset?”  He offered, running a hand through the blonde curls.

“Of course.  I will be waiting,” she murmured, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before turning away.  Max watched her go, gazing admiringly as her hips swayed in the tight dress she was wearing.  He only moved once she was out of view.

Life was good, he thought as he entered the shop, more than eager for the day to slip away.

Rossa sneered at the sight of Max in the arms of another woman.  She had hoped that it was not true, that her sister had been mistaken.  Max had been so sweet with her, she thought he was different than the other men.  She was certain that it had been someone else that her sister had seen. 

But when dusk approached, Rossa found herself wandering the streets of the neighborhood, despite her faith in Max.  And when she spotted her light-haired lover, her heart clenched.

She ran, jealousy tugging her along.  She would make him pay, and she knew exactly what to do.  Once home, she locked her bedroom door behind her and crouched to the floor by her bed.  There was a loose floorboard and she pried it open, carefully pulling out a leather-bound book.  Etched on the front was a pentagram.

Rossa had found the book one day, discarded in a pile of waste.  She had flipped through the pages, learning that it was a spell book.  No one had seen her take it, and she had kept it hidden under the floor for months.  Witchcraft was looked down upon; she had heard the rumors of hangings and she did not want to get caught. 

She was unsure as to why she kept the book, instead of throwing it out.  Rossa had never had the courage to use it before, but now she had a reason.  She was thankful she had kept it.

Tonight, she would invoke the demon Tamara and beg for assistance. 

It was days before she saw Max again.  He was working for his father, while his little brother sat on a bench, reading a scroll.  When Max spotted her, he let out an easy smile.  “Rossa, I was beginning to worry.  Your sister said you were unwell?”

“I am feeling much better, Max,” she returned.  “You see, I discovered that the man who I thought loved me, in the arms of another woman.”  Max blanched, green eyes widening.  But Rossa continued, “So I sought advice.  My master told me exactly what to do.”

She pulled out a small dagger, closing her eyes as she began to chant.  When she was finished, she drew the blade across her palm, cutting deep enough to bleed.  “You have three lifetimes, Max, to earn the love of an angel,” she scoffed at the word angel.  “Should you fail, your soul belongs to me for eternity,” Rossa informed, a twisted smile splitting her once-beautiful face.

“I’ll even be generous.  Your little brother can join you!”  She began chanting again and Max fell to the floor, a sudden pain in his chest.  He looked behind him and saw that Al was in a similar condition, before blacking out.

With the two males out cold, Rossa crouched beside Max.  She cut open his shirt and drew a symbol on his chest in her own blood.  She did the same with Al before leaving the shop in a hurry.

_Present Day_

Castiel could feel the air currents in his wings.  A warm wind sifted through delicate secondary feathers and he stretched his wings wide, catching the current and rising higher.  It had seemed like an eternity since he was last able to enjoy flying.  His brother Michael had him working in the Library in an attempt to organize records.  It was a tedious task, but Castiel kept his head down and worked diligently.

He could have been stationed at the Gates of Hell.  He shuddered at the thought, having worked as a sentry for a few hundred years before being transferred.  The screams of the tortured souls was something he could never forget and he was grateful he no longer had that particular task.

Feeling a shift in the wind, Castiel was carried downwards a ways before rising again.  His thoughts returned to Heaven and how things have been differently lately.  For instance, his own reluctance to do a job.  Angels were meant to do their assigned tasks, no questions asked.

Heaven had been in chaos ever since their brother Gabriel had died.  Though everyone had grieved the loss of the archangel, Castiel took it the hardest.  Since he was created, Gabriel had taken him under his wing, teaching the fledgling everything he needed to know.  Though all angels were brothers and sisters, Castiel felt that Gabriel was more of a brother than the others.  And when he left, because Castiel _knew_ his brother was still alive, he felt a pain in his chest that he knew was abandonment.

And that was another feeling that angels should not have.  Angels should only feel the love of their Father, belief in Him and each other, and above all, they should be obedient.

Castiel had briefly entertained the idea of going after Gabriel.  If he could, he would search all of Earth for his missing brother.  But it was against regulation.  It was complex, the Heavenly rules.  Angels were not allowed to leave without permission, yet they were allowed to Fall, stripping out their grace and becoming human.  Before Gabriel had left, one of his sisters, Anael, had Fallen.   As it were, she was considered a traitor.  To the angels, she had turned her back on her own kind to become human.

Once he was high enough, he closed his eyes and drew his wings in tightly.  He fell, headfirst, the air rushing past him.  The seconds inched by as he dove, letting the drop clear his thoughts.

Castiel never mentioned it to anyone apart from Gabriel, but he had always thought that humans were fascinating creatures.  They had so many emotions that caught Castiel’s interest.  He enjoyed watching them when he could.  But he wasn’t supposed to be curious.  He shouldn’t pay so much attention to humans.  He was supposed to serve Heaven, not entertain thoughts of humanity.

But Michael and Raphael were always arguing.  He had never seen either brother, but had always heard their arguments.  Their booming voices always seemed to battle for dominance and Castiel doubted.  Angels were not supposed to show anger towards one another.  And for that matter, they were not supposed to doubt.

His wings snapped open, primary feathers catching the current and landing gently.  Castiel found himself in his favorite Heaven.  It was a grassy field, with countless flowers and even more colors.  Tall trees were lined the edges of the field and a gentle breeze picked up, the grass and leaves swaying.  There was a man flying a red kite in the distance, but he never noticed Castiel.

“Castiel,” a voice broke through his thoughts.  Castiel turned to find his brother, Joshua, standing only a few yards away.  He had a gentle smile on his face as he gazed upwards.  “You always were the most graceful in flight.”

Castiel felt himself flush at the compliment, “Joshua, it is good to see you.”  Joshua was usually found in the Garden and he was one of the select few that talked directly to their Father.  That he had complimented Castiel was very rewarding.  This revelation had him confused.  Again, there was another emotion that he shouldn’t have.

“You’ve noticed it, haven’t you?” Joshua continued after a beat, “emotions, feeling things angels’ shouldn’t.  Doubt, pride, anger.”

The field disappeared.  Replacing it was a small room with cream walls and hardwood flooring.  In the center was a table, hand carved with matching chairs.  On the walls were various paintings, some he recognized as Van Gogh and da Vinci; others he was less familiar with.  It was a beautiful room, but had a cold feeling to it that was difficult to describe.

“God is gone,” Castiel murmured.

“He has been gone for awhile,” Joshua affirmed, fingers linked behind his back as he stood tall.  “Gabriel was the last to see Him, but he is also gone.”  He moved to stand in front of a painting of wildflowers, trailing a hand along the frame gently.  “Raphael wants to continue with the Plan.  Michael does not, as I’m sure you’ve heard.  With our Father gone, everyone is uncertain as for our course of action.  For the first time, we are divided.”

Castiel watched Joshua curiously, taking in his words.  He had suspected what his brothers’ argument was, but could never confirm it until now.  “What will happen?”

Joshua turned to face the younger angel, a grave expression on his face.  “A civil war, most likely.  Our brothers and sisters will take sides and fight one another.  It is regrettable, but at this rate it will happen.”

Castiel frowned, wondering why Joshua was telling him this.  After all, Castiel was just a lower angel, a grunt.  His brother must have noticed his confusion as he continued, “I came to you, Castiel, because I believe you can find Gabriel.  Everyone believes him to be dead, but you and I both know that is not true.”

The younger angel held in his surprise.  He had told no one of his suspicions because if Gabriel had wanted to disappear, then Castiel refused to turn against his closest brother.  “How will I do that?  We cannot leave without Falling,” Castiel said, thinking of his sister Anael.  He wished he knew how she was, but the Fallen could not be found without permission from one of the archangels.  With that thought in mind, he knew she was safe.

“What I am about ask of you, Castiel, is the most important task I could give anyone.  And I want you to think carefully before answering.”  When Castiel nodded after a moment, Joshua continued, “Your mission is to find Gabriel.  Bring him home, Castiel.”

Castiel was about to speak, but Joshua cut him off quickly, “Angels are not allowed on Earth without permission from Michael and Raphael.  But, there is nothing against Falling.”

Castiel’s eyes widened at that, “Brother, what are you saying?”

Joshua smiled, “You will Fall, become human, in order to search for our missing brother.  However, it will not be the same method as Anael.  We do not have that kind of time.  I will bind your grace, so it will be returned to you upon completion of the mission.  You will not be reborn like Anael, you will be given a human form that is similar to you.”

“I accept,” Castiel said quickly, feeling a strange bubbling emotion.  Excitement, he concluded.  Because he would get to view Earth as a human, see the wonders from their perspective.

Joshua’s brown eyes bored into Castiel, searching his grace for anything negative.  “Listen carefully, Castiel.  You will be marked as a traitor.  If any of our brothers come across you, they are obligated to kill you.”

The younger angel paused as he mulled over the consequences.  He was unsure if he would be able to complete the mission, knowing that his brothers and sisters would believe him to be a traitor.  But Heaven depended on him and he knew that if God wished it, then Castiel would find Gabriel.  That thought strengthened his decision.  His voice was strong when he said, “I’ll do it.”

There was a sparkle in Joshua’s eyes as he said, “I have faith in you, Castiel.  Now, this will hurt.”

Joshua reached forward, placing his hands on either side of Castiel’s face.  He closed his eyes as the older angel chanted.  A burning sensation built at his temples where Joshua held him, increasing in intensity until his head throbbed.  The pain slithered down his body like tiny webs and his whole body felt like it was on fire.  It built to the feeling of thousands of angel blades piercing his flesh, not an inch spared.  He tried to scream but even that made the pain worse.  He could no longer hear Joshua’s voice, the pain too overwhelming.

He felt as though he were falling, the pain suddenly gone.  He tried to stretch his wings, to ride the currents, but could no longer feel them.  Castiel jerked up, panting heavily.  It was dark and cold and wet.  He was sitting in shallow water and his body shook from the temperature.  He clumsily climbed over the small wall that contained the water, landing on cool tile.  He leaned back, still panting.  He felt oddly light without the weight of his wings and his balance was off.

His stomach clenched tightly and Castiel frowned, looking down.  His fingers splayed across his pale flesh, trying to discern the cause of the pain.  But it only continued and felt like something was trying to work itself upward.  He lunged forward, his throat working to push out his stomach’s contents, which was practically nothing.

When his body finally calmed down, the pain no longer affecting him, he sat back and glanced around, taking in his surroundings and trying to regain control of his breathing.  It took him a moment, but he realized he was inside a building.  Behind him was a large fountain, which explained the water.  Rising slowly, Castiel used the edge to steady himself. 

Once his balance returned, he examined his body.  He appeared the same, just more solid and missing his wings.  Around his neck was a silver chain with a rounded sapphire attached to it.  The stone contained his grace and Castiel was thankful that he could hold on to it.  He walked slowly, taking in his surroundings and not at all bothered by his nudity.

He appeared to have landed in some sort of shopping center.  There were several small stores lined along the walls with various objects.  In the dim lighting, he could see that many sold clothing.  He knew that most humans were not fond of nudity, so Castiel decided to find a suitable outfit. 

But first, he had to figure out how to get inside the stores.  All of them seemed to be barricaded by a sort of metal wall.  He stopped at one particular store where the metal wall was raised about a foot off the ground.  Eying it carefully, he decided to crawl under the contraption.  It was rather easy and once inside, he searched the clothing wracks for something to wear.

He paused, glancing at a mannequin.  Tilting his head, he studied the clothes.  A white button-up top was tucked into a pair of black pants, with a black suit over the top.  A blue scrap of cloth hung around the neck.  Castiel reached forward, running his fingers along the blue fabric.  He tugged at it and it loosened enough to slip off the mannequin.

“What is your purpose?” He murmured, surprised at his own voice and how deep it sounded.  He brought a hand to his throat as he spoke, feeling his vocal chords move, “I am Castiel, a fallen angel.” 

The words struck a nerve within him, his stomach churned and his chest felt tight, though for an entirely different feeling than earlier.  He realized he was feeling sadness.  As a fallen angel, his brothers and sisters would attack him if they came across him.  They would believe him to have betrayed his own kind for humanity.

Forcing the thoughts away, he slipped the blue cloth around his neck and proceeded to undress the mannequin.  It took even longer to recreate the look on his own body as he fumbled with the buttons of the shirt and pants.  The clothes hung loosely on his frame, but they would do.  His body shivered again, even with the new clothing.  He spotted a brown overcoat hanging on one of the wracks and slipped that on, too.

He was about to exit the store when he remembered that he needed shoes.  Being a human was more complicated than he thought. 

The first pair of shoes he grabbed were too small, wouldn’t even slip onto his feet.  The second pair was better, though uncomfortable; they rubbed his feet as he walked around.  So he found a similar size in a pair of black shoes that were a little loose, but much more comfortable. He left the store then, sliding underneath the metal wall, and attempted to find an exit.

The lights on the building were on now, he noticed as he walked down the wide aisle.  Soft music began to play and he could see the early morning sun through the windows on the ceiling.  A pair of elderly women were walking toward him, their movements exaggerated.  His heart rate increased and he could feel sweat beading at his forehead.  Was he not supposed to be here?  They were talking rapidly and didn’t even spare Castiel a glance as they passed.  He let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

He passed a few more people before he found the exit.  A young woman was near the doors, stretching her legs.  Her outfit was similar to the other women, bright and clingy with her hair tied back.  After stretching, she took off at a much faster walk.

Humans were certainly confusing, he thought as he left the shopping plaza.


	2. Chapter 2

“Dammit,” Dean cursed his luck as he hurriedly loaded salt rounds into his sawed-off.  He spun on his heel and once he had the gun loaded, he aimed for the ghost.  He barely felt the recoil of the gun after he pulled the trigger and once the bullet hit its mark, the ghost vanished.  Fumbling around his pockets, he couldn’t find his lighter.

Of course he couldn’t find his lighter, because he was Dean Winchester and his luck, especially lately, had gone sour.  That’s not to say that he ever really had good luck, but it seemed like Lady Luck was turning a blind eye to him.

The sound of a match lighting was loud to his ears and he turned to see Sam dropping a match into the grave.  It took a moment for the flames to catch and the ghost flickered in front of him, its face distorted in anger.  As it lunged at Dean, he raised his shotgun, finger on the trigger.  But before it could attack, it lit up like a Christmas tree, letting out a wail that hurt their ears.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean said, staring into the flames of the open grave and breathing a little harder than normal.  It was supposed to be a simple salt-and-burn on their way to Atlantic City; the ten grand Bela had given them been burning a hole in Dean’s pocket.  But of course nothing was ever simple for the Winchesters. 

“That’s it, right?” Sam asked beside him, just as breathless.  He glanced over to his older brother, seeing the relief, as well as exhaustion, on his face.  Digging up graves wore a body out, no matter how many times they’ve done it before.  But there was more to the look on Dean’s face.  That kind of exhaustion stemmed from a lifetime—or three—of never catching a break.

Dean nodded his head, “Yeah.”  They stood there a few moments, listening to the crackling of the fire as it died down and all that remained were ashes.  It didn’t take nearly as long to fill in the grave than it had to dig it up, and once the ground was level again, Dean hefted his duffel bag onto his shoulders, the shotgun in his other hand, and headed back to his car.  Sam followed with the shovels.

After putting the items into the hidden compartment in the trunk, they climbed into the car and Dean drove back to the hotel.  When they pulled into the parking lot, he immediately locked himself in the bathroom, taking a long, hot shower.  Sam could shove it—Dean had done most of the digging and that resulted in being covered nearly head to foot in graveyard dirt.  He rubbed the symbol on his chest, barely noticeable and only a shade or two lighter than his tanned flesh.

He knew Sam was trying to help, but dammit, he wished his brother would give up.  There was no point trying to break the damn curse.  In less than a year, Dean’s deal would come due and Sam would be completely free of the curse and could go on with his life, whether he continued hunting down monsters or if he went back to Stanford.

Dean was trying his best not to think of the upcoming day that his deal came due.  Right now, he just wanted to kill some fucking monsters, save a few lives while he could, and go down swinging.  Just like the old days.  But with this demon deal, he had given up trying to break the curse.  Especially since Sam was safe.  After all, it was Dean’s fault that Sam had to endure all the bullshit that had been thrown their way.  And if Dean even tried to get out of the deal, Sam would go right back to being dead.

It pissed Dean off to no end that his little brother kept trying to find a way out of the deal.  Not to mention the fact that Sam had killed the crossroads demon a few weeks back.  All Dean wanted was for the kid to leave shit alone.  They’d had a shit ton of arguments about it and though he had asked and demanded Sam to give up, he knew his brother was still trying something. 

Sam was already on the far bed sound asleep and snoring softly when Dean exited the bathroom in his pajamas.  He took the other bed, not bothering with the covers and pulling the stiff pillow to him.  He was out in minutes, exhaustion taking him.

He found himself sitting on the ground with his back to the wall.  The room was tiny, barely enough room for the small bed that was to his left.  But he didn’t notice any of that.  Al was lying on the bed, a fever raging through his body.  His neck was swollen in places, patches of black speckling across the skin.

“Angels will save us, Max,” his little brother whispered, sounding oddly cheerful despite the painful bumps and fever.  He had a smile on his face, though his eyes were closed.  “You will find an angel, I know you will.”

He only nodded, couldn’t find the words to speak because he didn’t want to disappoint his little brother.  But he was beginning to experience the same disease.  Already, his neck was beginning to swell and the black patches would soon follow.  Shifting to his knees, he grabbed Al’s hand in his, pressed his forehead to the too-hot skin and prayed.

The Black Death had already taken their parents.  And just as his mother prayed for their father, Max prayed for Al.  He didn’t deserve this.  He was just a boy, young and innocent.  Please, God, save my brother, he prayed.

The walls melted away and he found himself sitting in a chair, at a table.  He was playing poker with a man named Samuel Colt.  His little brother, now called William, was winning the round.  He was grateful to see that William had grown into an intelligent young man, but he insisted on helping his big brother find an angel. “There’s a possible hunt in the next town over,” Colt was saying.  “Might be up your alley, James.”

“That so?” he heard himself responding.  James looked at his hand, noting that he had a pair of tens.  He tossed in a coin, face steady.

“Sinners’ being killed left ‘n right,” Colt said as he put another coin in.  “Never heard of no angels, but seems like something they’d do.  If they were real, o’ course.”

He was dimly aware of music playing in the background.  When he focused on it, it grew louder.  His brows furrowed in confusion and all of a sudden, he was staring at an ugly floral bedspread.  Behind him, he heard Sam answer the phone.

Groaning, Dean rubbed the sleep from his eyes, sitting up slowly.  After a few minutes, Sam shut his phone, “That was Bobby.  Says there’s a hunt for us in Michigan.”

“Dammit, that’s in the opposite direction,” Dean complained as he stood, stretching his tired muscles.  “You sure no one else can do it?”

Sam shook his head, “You know, maybe we could use that money to stay in a better motel.  Or something other than fast food.”  He had a sour look on his face as he began packing his clothes, folding them neatly and putting them inside his duffle.

Dean sent him a grin, “Aw, where’s the fun in that Sammy?”

Sam’s jaw clenched at the nickname, but he said nothing about it.  Instead, “Thinks it might be a nest of vampires.  All the typical signs point towards it.”

“Alright then, let’s gank some vamps.”  If he couldn’t gamble the money, at least killing some vampires would let him blow off his frustration.  And he certainly knew how to kill those fuckers.  Definitely a good stress reliever.  So was gambling.  But it seemed like it would be awhile before he got to do any of that.

An hour later Dean started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, noting it was just after eight.  Damn, they had gotten an early start.  He mentally cursed Bobby for waking them at ass o’clock in the friggin’ morning.  Not only that, but traffic was going to be a bitch. 

He was stopped at a red light, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel to AC/DC and bobbing his head a bit.  It was one of his favorites, one of those that needed to be blared.  But Sam had sent him a glare as soon as Dean’s fingers inched towards the knob.  Releasing a sigh, he gripped the steering wheel tightly.  He would relent, just this once.  After all, Sam was researching about their case. 

And he was tired of arguing.

Normally, the guitar riffs and lyrics helped him forget the memories.  Dean only ever remembered bits and pieces of his last two lives, which was more than what Sam remembered.  But he got enough to understand that he was royally fucked.  Because nearing the end of his third and final lifetime, he had yet to hear anything about an honest-to-God angel. 

That deal he made with the crossroads demon had at least ‘cured’ Sam.  The hold on his soul had been terminated, having lived and died the required time that the witch had cursed them with.  The brand on his chest was gone and Sam would continue the rest of his life without fear of being owned by a witch. 

Dean scowled at the thought.  While Sam had been saved, thank whatever god or deity there was for loopholes, Dean had yet to find one of his own.  But that didn’t stop Sam from trying, if him chatting with some demon spawn named Ruby was anything to go by.  He clenched his teeth and stepped on the gas when the light turned green.  Best to not think about shit like that while hunting.  Needed to keep his head clear.

Castiel found himself walking down a sidewalk.  It was bright and sunny out now, but the air was chilly and the ground was damp.  There were very few people out and about, so the fallen angel was enjoying the scenery uninterrupted. 

The buildings were only a story or two high, with different signs advertising _Antiques_ , _Recycled Music_ , and _New Books,_ among other things.  Cars drove by slowly, splashing murky water onto the sidewalks.  A small restaurant was playing soft music and strange smells caught Castiel’s attention.

His mouth began to water and his stomach made a strange churning sensation.  He brought a hand to his stomach and wondered if something was wrong with his body.  Pushing the strange sensations away, he walked into a building that was identified as a _Police Station_.  He was aware of the different professions of humans, and recognized Police as those who helped civilians.

“Can I help you?” a woman asked, sitting behind a counter.  Her fingers moved quickly across a narrow, black board, and she stared at a screen.  When Castiel made no response, she paused, meeting his gaze.  “Sir?”

“Oh, yes, I’m trying to find my brother,” Castiel said carefully, unsure.  With his grace still so close, he could sense that she was a good soul.  He hoped she would be able to assist him.

“When did you last see him?” She asked, beginning to pull some papers while she spoke.

“It’s been awhile,” he answered, which was mostly true.  He just was uncertain as for how long Gabriel had been missing in Earth years.  Time worked differently here than it did in Heaven.

The woman grabbed a board, a small stack of papers, and a pen, “Have a seat over there, fill these forms out.  Bring them to me when you’re finished.”  She motioned to a bench along the far wall.  Castiel took the items from the woman carefully, walking over to the seat.  He sat stiffly, looking at the papers.

Once reading through the different questions, he realized that this wouldn’t help him find his brother.  For one, they had no ‘Last Name’ and he had no idea what a Social Security Number was.  As for Gabriel’s last known address, Castiel could not put Heaven down.  So he set the papers and pen down, and left the building.

He would have to think of another way to find his brother.

Stepping out into the cold, he continued down the sidewalk, ignoring the strange grumbling in his stomach.  There were more people on the streets now, and the sun was beginning to set.  Many of the people were dressed in suits like Castiel, and he was briefly aware of a sense of accomplishment.  At least he was not standing out.

The crowds died down after a bit, though the businesses around him seemed to be teeming with people.  The buildings in the area looked more worn that the other part of the city, and the sidewalks were filthy.  He continued on, not sure what he was looking for.  He needed to find Gabriel, but now that he was on Earth and powerless, he had no idea where to begin.  Perhaps he should resort to the supernatural, rather than humans?

The idea seemed plausible.  He knew of a summoning ritual that would work.  But it was ancient, older than he was.  He knew the incantation and material required for the ritual, but the items were incredibly rare.  It would be nearly impossible trying to find them alone.  He supposed his search should begin in a library.  His mind made up, Castiel turned around.  He had seen a bookstore awhile ago and that seemed a likely place to begin his search.

Before he could take a step, however, he was dragged into an alley and shoved against the brick wall.  The breath knocked from him, he felt a tight grip lock around his wrists and his face was pressed into the rough wall.  Instinctively he struggled, trying to pry the hands off of him, but the woman was much stronger than his human body and he was an awkward position.  He couldn’t gain any leverage.

“Lookit what we’ve got here,” a dark voice chimed in his ear, and even Castiel could sense her twisted amusement.  “A little fallen angel!”  He could hear laughter from behind the woman holding him to the wall.  Without needing to see, Castiel could sense the darkness in their souls, recognized them for what they truly were, just as he had been identified by them.

Vampires.

He kicked at the vampire, but it only earned him a hard shove, knocking his face into the wall.  He felt dizzy, stomach rolling at the pain.  He could feel something warm trickling from his forehead and knew it was his own blood.

“I say we drain him,” a male vampire said, approaching the struggling pair.  It inhaled deeply as the scent of Castiel’s blood filled the air.  His words were wistful as he continued, “I’ve always wanted to taste an angel.”

“But can we play with him first?” One whined, another female.  “He’s so pretty.”

Chills ran down Castiel’s spine and it took him a moment before he recognized this new emotion: fear.  “Now, tell me pretty boy, what are you doing here?” The first vampire inquired.

“I may not have the power to smite you,” Castiel began in a firm voice that belied the strange fear he felt.  He was almost proud of himself, that his voice did not waver.  “But I will not break easily.”  And as an angel, he believed it was true.  He had been trained to fight, though his most recent job in Heaven had been menial tasks.  He was confident that, if he were to fight the vampire one on one, he would hold his ground.

But the vampire dug its claws into his wrists.  The pain made him gasp, his words stopped.  “None of that, now, or we’ll have to kill you.  And I promise you won’t enjoy it.”

“Release me,” Castiel demanded.  He was beginning to doubt his abilities.  The bone-crushing grip on his wrists made him dizzy, not what he was used to as an angel.  The human body was so much different and received pain much more intensely.

The vampires all laughed.  “Or what?  What can someone in your _condition_ possibly do?”  The male questioned as he stepped into Castiel’s line of sight.  He looked like an ordinary man, brown hair and stubble on his chin.  But the fallen angel could see how dark and twisted the man’s soul was.

He tried to yank his arms free, but the movement only seemed to anger the vampire holding him.  A hand tangled in his dark hair and he was slammed into the wall, harder than before, and a bright pain flared, making him dizzier.  “I had hoped you would be cooperative.  Oh well.”

Just as sharp teeth pressed against his neck, several loud bangs reached his ears and the vampires screamed before fleeing.  The one holding Castiel grunted in pain, crumpling to the ground.  In its place was a man, his green eyes glaring at him hard.  He had a pistol in one hand and a machete in his other. 

Castiel felt his grace warm suddenly against his chest.  The man’s soul was possibly the brightest he’d ever seen, for a human.  He felt the fear dissipate, with the threat of the vampires gone and the presence of such a beautiful soul. 

With a mostly clear head, he realized that this man had just saved him.  And angel tradition demanded that Castiel owed him his life.  This was going to complicate his mission, Castiel thought.

Dean quickly regarded the man.  He was wearing a suit ensemble with a trench coat that seemed too big for him.  He had a mop of dark brown hair and the man looked at him with wide, blue eyes and Dean couldn’t help but notice how _blue_ they were.  “Who the hell are you?” Dean demanded in a harsh tone. 

Before the man could respond, the vampire lurched forward, seeming to recover from the bullet wound and tackled Dean to the ground.  The gun and machete were knocked from him and he had no choice but to use his fists.  He landed several solid punches in the bitch’s face.  She snarled at him, fangs and all.  But he flipped them over and pressed his weight against her chest, pinning her to the ground.  They grappled for a moment and Dean punched the vampire’s face in.  While she lay dazed, he quickly reached for the blade and, in a rapid movement, he decapitated the creature.

“Dean!” he heard his brother yell, running towards them.  “You okay?” Sam questioned before turning towards the strange man.  He raised his machete, ready for an attack, before looking to Dean for confirmation.  When he received none, he lowered the blade and took in the man.  He looked like a human, just a little shaken, with a smear of blood on his forehead.  The vamps’ victim then, Sam deduced.

“I’m fine, Sam,” Dean said, getting to his feet and brushing the dirt from his clothes.  He wiped the blade on the vampire’s clothes before returning it to his belt.   As he grabbed the pistol, he flicked the safety on.  He stood, turning his gaze on the scruffy looking man.  The man’s unusual blue eyes returned the stare unnervingly. 

He had been following the vampire, but had lost it a few blocks back.  Sam had been a street over, making sure the vampire didn’t escape that way.  When Dean had caught up to the vampire, there were two more with her and they had the guy cornered.  Dean had only heard the tail end of their conversation, but it was enough to know that the vampires wanted the guy for something.  Which made the guy either dangerous or he knew something, and it was probably both.

“What did they want from you?” He asked threateningly.  Sam cast a confused gaze on him.  Had he assumed wrong?  He raised the machete, just to be sure, and waited for the man to speak.

Blues eyes fixed on Dean and he could see him trying to focus.  The man started slowly, “I cannot say for certain, but I believe…” but his voice trailed off as his body lurched forward.

“Woah, dude, you okay?” Dean’s brows furrowed as he reached a steadying hand to the man’s left arm.  Searing warmth met his palm and he almost pulled away.  But he was surprised by the panic on the dark-haired man’s face, those blue eyes seemingly impossibly wide in apparent fright.  Like a friggin’ deer in headlights, Dean thought before the man’s eyes rolled back and his body went limp.

“Shit, help me out Sammy,” Dean cursed as he caught the guy, slinging an arm over his shoulders to hold him up.  Sam took his other side and the man slumped forward, a dead weight between the brothers.

“Dean, he’s bleeding,” Sam said hesitantly, watching the blood trail down the side of his face.

Dean groaned.  They couldn’t just leave the guy in the alley, bleeding to death.  Besides, he knew something and Dean was damned if he didn’t figure out what it was.  “Let’s get back to the hotel.  We can clean him up there.”

They only made it a few steps before a cold voice called out, “Where do you think you’re going, Winchester?”


	3. Chapter 3

Dean recognized that voice, but he couldn’t believe it.  At least, until gunshots rang out.  He and Sam darted to the closest alleyway, struggling with the unconscious man.  Dean peeked around the corner, noticing two men cautiously approaching.  His luck had hit an all-time low and he groaned.  “Gordon?  What the hell?” Dean cursed. 

Their options were limited, since they had the weird guy with them.  And Dean wasn’t going to leave him.  There were too many questions and he wanted answers, dammit.  The guy was obviously important to the vamps and Dean was going to get to the bottom of this.  But first, he had to get rid of Gordon. 

“Alright,” he said after a quick moment, voice hushed but serious.  He motioned towards the unconscious man, “Take Constantine here back to the hotel.  I’ll distract ‘em.”

Before Sam could protest, Dean tossed him the keys and spun around the corner, shooting at the two men.  The gunshots rang out, loud and echoing off the stone buildings.

Sam let out his own curse as he hefted the man over his shoulder and down the street, to the Impala.  The man was surprisingly light under the bulky clothes, but he was still a heavy weight for Sam to carry and he was relieved to reach the vehicle.  It took him just a few minutes to get back to the hotel and inside safely.

Looking at his watch, he thought about leaving to go find Dean.  But he would give his brother ten minutes; they’ve handled worse than Gordon before.  He was only human, after all.

Sparing a glance to the strange man lying on the far bed, Sam remembered the head wound.  He found the first aid kit in his duffle bag, as well as a flask of Holy water.  He couldn’t be too safe and sprinkled a little on the man’s face.  He was surprised when the man woke up, jerking upright and looking just as panicked as before, but there were no burns where the water touched his flesh.  Demon was out.  Only a plethora of other supernatural creatures to go through.

The man sat up quickly, looking around the room before his gaze landed on the flask in Sam’s hand.  “Holy water,” he said in understanding, voice rough.  Wide, blue eyes found Sam and he intoned, “I am not a demon.”

Sam shrugged before sitting opposite of the man, opening up the kit.  He poured some peroxide onto a clothe.  “Can’t be too sure.  Hold still,” he said as he dabbed at the wound on the man’s forehead.  He flinched at first, the liquid stinging the cut, but held still after the initial shock.  “The vampires wanted you, Dean said.”

The man held his gaze while responding, “Yes.”

Sam looked away uncomfortable, the stare almost severe.  He grabbed a couple butterfly closures and when it was clear that the man was not going to speak, he said, “Care to elaborate?”  Carefully pressing one end of the closure above the wound, he pulled it tight and pressed the other end below the cut.

The man was quiet for a moment, as though mulling over his options, before he finally said in that gravelly voice, “No.”  He still didn’t look away.

Jaw clenching, Sam bargained, “Then give me one good reason why I shouldn’t hand you over to the vamps.”

A crease formed between the man’s brows.  The blue eyes hardened, as though searching for something.  His eyes softened after a moment, “You have a good soul, even with the darkness.”  His words were spoken with quiet surprise.

“Darkness?” Sam said suspiciously.  The man was beginning to unnerve him even more than he already had.  What could he possibly mean by that?

“There is demon blood in you,” was the simple response, as though Sam didn’t know that particular fact.

In a flash of movement, Sam had the man pinned to the wall, using his forearm to hold the man in place.  Through clenched teeth, he demanded, “Who the hell are you?”  There was no way the guy was innocent.  There were so few people that knew about what Azazel had done to him, and most of them were demons.  He could count the number of humans that knew on one hand.

“My name is Castiel.”

Sam finally held the man’s, Castiel’s, intense stare.  He didn’t struggle or fight, just stared.  Sam tried to add everything up.  He could supposedly see Sam’s soul, knew that he had demon blood in him.  And his name was _Castiel_ , which he had heard somewhere before.  A thought occurred to him.  His grip loosened and he stepped away, eyes wide and curious. “Are you…”

Before Sam could finish, the hotel doorknob rattled before the door swung open, Dean slamming it shut behind him and locking it.  He grumbled as he stalked to his duffle bag, shoving the gun inside.  He cast a glance over to Sam, noticing he and the man were watching him.  “He good?” his gaze slid to Castiel.

Sam blinked, stepping further away from Castiel.  “Yeah,” he said.  Because the guy wasn’t a demon.  That didn’t mean that Sam believed he was completely human, either.  He had a few suspicions that he was going to look into before he said anything else.  He didn’t want to raise their hopes if it was just a coincidence.  Nodding, he continued, “Yeah, he’s good.”

“Awesome.  Because after this mess, you’re telling us everything,” Dean directed towards Castiel, who only nodded minutely.  He zipped up the duffle and took a seat in one of the chairs at the small table.  “I guess Gordon’s outta jail.” 

Sam shrugged as he moved to sit down in the opposite chair, “How the hell did he know where to find us?”

Dean paused as something crossed his mind, “That bitch!”  The younger Winchester frowned as he pulled out his phone, flipping through the numbers until he found the right one.  “Bela,” he explained, the word feeling dirty as it left his lips.

It seemed like she had pulled another fast one on them and Dean chewed her out on the phone.  He let out a good deal of his anger at her and he could tell she was taken aback by how serious his tone was.

Sam flipped open his laptop, pulling up the internet browser.  Casting a glance at the dark haired man, standing quietly next to the bed, he typed the name ‘Castiel’ into the search engine.  Very few results were found.  He sighed and clicked on the first link, a baby naming website.  The name meant ‘my cover is God.’  That got him thinking.  So he went back and typed in ‘Castiel angel.’  This time a few folklore references popped up.  He began clicking through the different links with a sigh.

Castiel watched with mild interest as Dean bickered with someone on the small phone.  Human technology was fascinating, the fact that they could communicate across long distances.  It reminded him vaguely of his family and how he had always been able to hear his brothers and sisters.  They had always been a soothing hum in the back of his mind and now that he was human, it was oddly quiet and he could no longer hear them.

He cast a glance at the taller hunter.  Sam confused him.  He was suspicious of Castiel, though he said nothing.  He kept shooting him strange looks while he tinkered around on a computer.  Sam had a bright soul, but the darkness in it was strong.  He could tell it was demon blood, though how the young man had been infected, he wasn’t sure.  His soul seemed to brighten against the darkness, even just being near Castiel.

He remembered his brother Zachariah mentioning a demon named Azazel, who had been purposely infecting human infants for demonic purposes.  Since he was lower in the hierarchy, Castiel didn’t know much about it, just the fact that Azazel had been killed by a group of hunters.  But he wondered if Sam was one of the children that Azazel had infected.  If he were still an angel, he would be able to cleanse the young man’s soul of the demonic ties.  At least, he’d heard of such things that had happened before.  He didn’t see why he would be unable to do so.

“Dude, quit hovering and sit down,” Dean ordered after he shut his phone, startling Castiel from his thoughts.  He did as he was told, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed that he had woken up on, as there was nowhere else to sit.  The brothers continued talking, about vampires and someone named Gordon, while Castiel sat quietly.  

Dean had saved him from the vampires.  Angel tradition demanded that Castiel serve the human until he could return the favor.  But he was uncertain as to how he would inform the hunter.  Not only that, but he still had to find his brother—it was his top priority, even with the life debt.

If he were more familiar with human technology, he could perhaps use a computer to track down the items he needed.  But that was an impossible idea, he wouldn’t know where to begin.  Maybe these two hunters would help him.  Maybe they knew an easy way to find the materials he needed for the ritual. 

But how would he explain his situation without giving away the fact that he was an angel? As an angel, he was unable to lie.  Or at least, he didn’t know how to lie convincingly.  It wasn’t a skill that was required, and in actuality, was looked down upon.  His brother, Gabriel, was rather clever about it however, but Castiel had never picked up on it, like most angels.  There was no need to lie.

Still, he had no knowledge of current technology, did not know how to be a human, and that was sure to set them off.  How was he supposed to convince these hunters that he was no threat to them, and yet he wanted their assistance, all the while serving a life debt?  He knew Sam suspected something judging by the looks he kept sending him, but Dean, he was not so sure.

Joshua’s words floated to his mind and he remembered his orders.  Joshua said that none of their brothers and sisters were to find out about Castiel’s mission.  That didn’t restrict him from seeking help from humans, especially a pair of hunters that knew quite a bit about the supernatural already.  It was unorthodox, but given the circumstances Castiel couldn’t see a better option.

His decision made, he stood, feeling anxious now that he had gained the brother’s attention with his abrupt movement.  “There is something I have to confess,” he spoke cautiously.  He didn’t want to upset either man.

Dean took in the man, noticing how awkward he looked.  He was gripping the flaps of his trench coat, knuckles almost white from how tight he was holding.  If anything, the guy just looked uncomfortable in his own skin.  Seemed like he was ready to bolt at the slightest sound.  “Okay, shoot.”  When all he earned was a confused head tilt, the hunter continued, “Go ahead.”

Human slang was difficult to understand, Castiel was finding.  “I am not a human in the normal sense,” Castiel started slowly and the brothers tensed, standing from their seats at the table as though ready for a fight.  Eyes widening, he took a step back, trying to look as innocuous as possible.  This was not going well.  He had to think of another tactic, a better way to explain himself.

Green eyes narrowed as his fingers reached for the pocket knife he kept at all times.  Hadn’t been thinking when he put the Colt away.  Now he was going to regret it.  “Yeah?  Then what’re you suppose to be?”

Castiel paused, wondering how he should phrase his words.  If he didn’t go about this the right way, they would turn him away.  And he didn’t know what to do if that happened.  “I _am_ human, but only just recently,” he settled on.

Sam’s eyes widened, “And that means what, exactly?”  It seemed that his suspicions might be right.  Searching for the name Castiel on the internet had turned up only a few results.  But what he did find, shocked him.  Castiel was the name of the angel of Thursday.  He cast a glance to his brother.  Dean was holding the man’s gaze with a defiant look in his eyes.  Sam could tell he was ready for a fight, one that he hoped wouldn’t happen.

Castiel kept his gaze focused on Dean’s.  His voice was confident for the first time that night as he said, “I am an angel of the Lord.”

“Bullshit.”

The words were out of Dean’s mouth before Sam could even process what the man had said.  Once it did, he felt a sudden relief and hope flare up.  This could be it, what they’ve been waiting for for _years_.

Frowning, Castiel stepped closer to Dean, his brows furrowed and trying to understand the phrase he used.  The man was clearly angry with what Castiel had said.  It took him a moment to figure out why.  “You don’t believe me?” he asked, though the way he said it sounded more like a statement.  This man, as a hunter, has likely crossed paths with more than a dozen different supernatural beings.  But he didn’t believe in angels?

“Hell no,” Dean exclaimed.  He glared at the so-called angel in front of him.  It was impossible and Dean knew better than anyone.  He’s had three life-times to figure that out.  Angels didn’t exist, just like unicorns and aliens.  Simple as that.

Sam moved forward, reaching out to his brother.  If this guy really was an angel, his brother finally had a chance.  Because if this worked and if Ruby helped them break the demon contract, Dean would be free.  “Dean—”

The older Winchester shook off Sam’s gesture.  He couldn’t look at his brother and see the hope in his eyes.  Anger boiled in him at the idea that this man claimed he was an angel.  “No, Sam.  There’s no way that this, this _tax accountant_ is an angel!” he pointed an accusing finger at the blue-eyed man.

“You don’t believe,” Castiel murmured, dismayed. 

Dean confirmed heatedly, “No, I don’t.”  He wouldn’t admit that the hurt he could see in the blue eyes threw him off.  But he stood his ground, hands fisting at his side.  He held on to his anger for a moment, keeping it in check.

“Dean, I really think—” Sam tried again, face full of concern.

“Shut up, Sam,” Dean growled and turned his attention to Castiel.  He’d had enough.  Couldn’t keep in his rage any longer.  He grabbed the man by his arm and forcibly shoved him out of the hotel.  “Get the fuck out of here.”  With that, Dean slammed the door in his face.

Castiel stood staring at the door in confusion.  He had certainly not expected that to happen.  He had not anticipated the pain in the hunter’s eyes, or the strange feeling in his chest at the thought that he had caused that pain.  How was he supposed to carry out his life debt if the hunter didn’t want him around?  And worse, how was he supposed to find his brother in this human world?

“Dean, I think you’re making a mistake,” Sam said after a long moment of Dean pacing the room in anger.  The dark look in his brother’s eyes when he glared almost made him falter.  But he pressed on because this was too important to let go, “We should just hear him out.  What if he really is an—”

“Don’t, Sam.  I don’t want to hear it.  Now, come on.  We’ve got vampires out there, and Gordon trying to kill us.  First things first, we’re changing hotels.”  He didn’t want Castiel hanging around and it was likely that Gordon had followed him, even though Dean had tried throwing the guy off his trail.  Better safe than sorry.

Sam sighed but began packing up their items.  There was no point talking about anything other than the case right now.  Dean was being too hardheaded and they did need to focus on the case.  He just hoped they weren’t making a mistake about Castiel. 

He recalled the summoning ritual he used on that case with the ghost ship.  The name Castiel had been part of it as well, though his skills in Latin translation needed some work.  But everything seemed like it was possible that this Castiel guy could really be an angel.  So Sam decided that once they dealt with Gordon, he would find the angel and try to convince Dean to hear the guy out.

It took them twenty minutes to get their gear together and head to the Impala.  Dean was relieved to see that Castiel was nowhere around.  “We don’t have very many options,” he started as they drove to the other side of town, looking for a cheap motel.  “If we find Gordon, I mean.”

Sam released a frustrated sigh, “I know, Dean.  We’ll have to kill him.”  It was a thought that had been plaguing him, almost as much as Castiel being an angel.

The words coming from Sam’s mouth surprised Dean and he glanced at his brother, brows lifted slightly.  “Really?”

“Like you said, we don’t have very many options.  He’s going to keep coming after us until we’re dead.  Or ‘til he is,” Sam shrugged, not wanting to think about it.  But it would have to be done, if he wanted to live.  The guy would never give up.

Dean hummed in agreement, though he was still a little shocked.  Sam was changing and that thought scared him a little.  When he poured bullet after bullet into Jake after the Devil’s Gate had been unlocked, and now not caring that they had to kill Gordon, another human?  Granted, Jake deserved it for killing Sammy in the first place, and Gordon would just keep coming.  Dude was friggin’ crazy.

  His phone rang then, before he could say anything further.  Checking the ID, he groaned.  “What do you want?” he demanded into the phone.  He really hated Bela, possibly more than Gordon, though it was a stiff competition.  Before they searched a hotel, he was definitely getting a new phone.

But he was surprised because she had found Gordon’s location. 

Castiel slowly came to, eyes blinking rapidly to focus.   The room around him was bathed in reds and oranges from the sunset, giving just enough light to see.  He was sitting and there was a small desk in front of him.  He tried to move, but realized his arms were bound to the chair with thick rope.  He tested the restraint and could not loosen it. 

“You’re not going anywhere,” a man said softly.  Castiel turned to find a man standing a few yards from him.  He was standing to the side of the window, out of the direct sunlight, and staring out as the sun sank lower into the horizon.  “I can smell them on you.  The Winchesters.”

Castiel tried to speak, but there was something covering his mouth.  He moved his lips against the strange material, but it stuck to his skin tightly.  He stared at the man, wondering what had happened.  He had been trying to find somewhere to get warm and out of the cold weather so he could contemplate, but after that, his memory drew a blank.  It took him a moment to recognize it, but this man was a vampire, just made.  The darkness was rapidly consuming what was left of the man’s soul.  Even his grace had no effect on it.

“But there’s something else about your scent,” the vampire continued as he turned around to face Castiel.  His eyes were bloodshot, even in the dim lighting it was noticeable.  He approached slowly and Castiel wondered if this was the man that Dean and Sam were looking for. 

The vampire leaned close to Castiel, his mouth dangerously close to his neck, and inhaled deeply.  “It’s your blood, there’s something different about it than the others,” he mused as he leaned back reluctantly.  “I intend to kill myself, once Sam is dead.  No need for another monster like myself around.  But before I do, I’ll have to try you.”

The vampire watched the sun finally disappear, sending the room into darkness.  Castiel glared at the vampire, wishing he could speak.

“I tried searching for the Winchesters, but they’re hiding pretty good,” he said and Castiel finally understood why he was there.  He was bait.  He didn’t know if the vampire’s plan would work—Dean had been livid with Castiel and he would be surprised if the hunter came.  But the Winchesters seemed determined to find Gordon, so perhaps they would come after all.

The vampire laughed as he turned away, pulling out a phone.  He dialed a number before pushing a button and setting the phone on the table.  It buzzed before making a small click and the vampire smiled.

 _“How’d you get this number?”_ came a rough voice from the small device, one that Castiel recognized.

The vampire moved to stand behind Castiel as he spoke, “Scent was all over the store.  ‘Course, I can’t smell you now.  Where are you?”

 _“I guess you’ll just have to find us, won’t you?”_ The tone was mocking, light, as Dean chuckled.  Castiel briefly thought it suited him, better than the anger he’d heard in the man’s voice.

Gordon sighed.  “I’d rather you come to me.”

_“What’s the matter, Gordo?  You’re not afraid of us, are you?  We’re just sitting here, bring it on!”_

“I don’t think so,” the vampire, Gordon, twisted a hand in Castiel’s hair, yanking his head back sharply as he ripped the tape from his mouth in a rapid movement. 

Castiel cried out at the unexpected pain, his mouth stinging and his scalp burning from the tight grip.  His neck ached from the sudden movement and awkward angle.  He couldn’t think straight, so unused to sharp sensations.  But he was better than this.  He was an angel, a warrior.  He would withstand the pain.  He couldn’t let it get to him.  Gritting his teeth against the pain, he ground out, “Dean, it’s a—”

He tried to say more, tell him it was a trap and to not worry about him, but the tape was back over his mouth.  “Factory on Riverside, off the turnpike.  Get here quick.  Don’t know how long I can resist fresh blood,” there was a twisted humor in the vampire’s voice as he spoke the last sentence.

 _“Gordon, let him go,”_ Dean threatened, his voice darker than it had been before.

“Bye, Dean,” Gordon picked up the phone as he turned away from Castiel.

_“Gordon!  Don’t do this.  You don’t kill innocent people, you’re still a hunter.”_

“No,” the vampire denied, and though his back was to Castiel, he could tell that the vampire was ashamed.  “I’m a monster.”

The line went dead and Dean cursed as he shut his new phone.  Sam looked at him questioningly, wondering what Gordon did to make his brother so angry.  “He’s got Cas,” Dean grumbled as he grabbed his duffle bag.  He waved his hand in the air to clear the smoke from the incense burning, clearing his vision so he could make sure he had what he needed to take down Gordon.

Sam watched in mild interest.  For not liking the guy, Dean had given him a nickname?  But that was beside the point right now.  He grabbed his own bag and began checking to make sure the Colt was loaded and his machete was sharp. 

The older Winchester practically ran out of their new motel room, shoving the bags in the trunk before climbing into the Impala.  Sam was taking too long and he gripped the steering wheel tightly as he waited. 

It was Dean’s fault that Castiel had been taken.  Even if the guy was a weird ass, delusional psycho, he didn’t deserve to be caught up in the Winchesters’ mess.  He didn’t know if he could handle having another life destroyed because of him.  “C’mon, Sammy!” He yelled, trying his best not to let how frustrated he was show.

Bela’s information last night had been right, sort of.  Gordon had been in that warehouse, but when the Winchester’s arrived, he was long gone.  In his place was the vampire they had come to Detroit to hunt, along with the decapitated bodies of the creature’s ‘family.’  Apparently, they had barely missed the hunter-turned-vampire. 

Had they gotten there ten minutes sooner, Castiel wouldn’t be a hostage and Gordon would be dead already.

“I’m here, let’s go,” Sam said as he slid in the seat.  Dean didn’t even wait for his brother to shut the door before he peeled out of the parking lot.

Trying to find the factory seemed to take way too long for either Winchester and it was time they didn’t have.  But they found it and when he parked across the street, Dean barely remembered to turn the ignition off and lock the car.  They grabbed the usual items for a vampire hunt and headed towards the entrance. 

It was obviously a trap, but they had no other options.  “Sam, stick close,” Dean said as they entered the building.  The lights flicked on and both tensed.  Sam agreed, knowing that he was the one who Gordon was really after.  He knew that the man—vampire—would try to get them separated.

The factory was a typical one, pipes everywhere and old, rusted machines covering the floor.  The windows were broken, some boarded up, and it surprised Dean that there was even working electricity.  There was a lone door at the far end of the room, whereas most of the main floor was open.

Dean nudged his brother, pointing out the door.  Sam nodded and they cautiously moved towards the door.  On the window panel of the door, the letters were mostly peeled and faded, but they could still make out the word _Office_.  Dean tested the handle, which turned out to be unlocked.  Shoving the door open, he held up his machete, ready for an attack, while Sam made sure they weren’t attacked from behind.

A familiar figure was slumped in a chair behind the desk.  But he was too still, unmoving and Dean’s gut churned as he carefully approached.  He checked for a pulse in the man’s neck, and nearly sighed in relief when he felt the slow but steady beat under his fingertips.  Hurriedly, he cut the ropes that tied Castiel to the chair and had to stop him from falling forward.

He moaned at the sudden movement and Dean lifted the man’s chin, grateful to see those blue eyes trying to focus on him.  “I’m sorry, but this’ll hurt,” he said and in a quick motion he yanked the duct tape from the man’s mouth.  The dazed look in those blue eyes and the angry welt from removing the tape had the hunter feeling guilty.  It was his fault that the guy was in this mess.

“Can you walk?” Dean said, shoving the thought away and focusing on the task at hand.  They had to get him out of there.

 Castiel bowed his head and stood, swaying slightly at the too-fast movement.  Before he could even try to take a step forward, Dean grabbed his arm and flung it over his shoulder, helping him out of the office.  Now he owed the hunter another life debt, Castiel thought dimly.  Life debts were rare for angels and he had managed to collect two over the course of a day.  Life as a human was not going particularly well.

Sam followed closely, eyes darting about to make sure that Gordon wasn’t about to attack.

“Trap,” Castiel said, voice even rougher than usual.  It hurt to talk and his mouth was so dry, but he had to tell them.  “It’s a trap, you shouldn’t have—”

“We know, but we’re getting you outta here,” Dean said, full of determination.

Castiel peered up at the man, trying to make sense of him.  He’d been so angry earlier.  He honestly expected Dean to finish off Gordon and leave Castiel behind. 

They reached the door they came in and Sam tried to open it, but it was locked.  He glanced to Dean after he tried to kick it in futilely, and Dean cursed, “Son of a bitch!”

“We’ll have to find another way out,” Sam said and the trio turned away.

Dean and Castiel led the way, Sam ever cautious and ready for an attack.  Several minutes of silence, pierced only by their footsteps, passed before they found a garage door that led outside. Dean shifted his hold on Castiel and began hurrying towards it.  Sam stuck close, but he wasn’t close enough because the door slid shut in an instant, separating Sam from his brother.

Dean grumbled, nearly dropping Castiel who slumped to the ground, and banged against the metal door.  “Sam!”  He could barely hear his brother on the other side, but the door wouldn’t budge.  “Be careful, Sam!”

He knew his brother could take care of himself, but Gordon was an excellent hunter, and now that he had the skills of a vampire, he would be difficult to kill.  Dean couldn’t fight the prickling worry he felt.  So instead, he tried to distract himself.  He leaned down next to Castiel, helping the man to his feet.

“I don’t understand,” Castiel murmured as he leaned heavily against Dean.  They were outside, but at the back of the building.  The car was all the way on the other side.  If he could get Castiel there, then he could go back and help his brother.

As Dean helped the man walk, he cast a sideways glance towards him and almost regretted it.  Those blue eyes were focused intently on the hunter. But he found he couldn’t turn his gaze away.  “What?”

His brows furrowed and he seemed to be lost in thought before he finally spoke, “Everything hurts.  I feel,” Castiel struggled to find the right word.  “Lethargic.  My head aches and there’s something wrong with my stomach.  How do you stand it?”

The raw curiosity on Castiel’s face made Dean stop.  He knew there was something off about the guy, but he sure as hell didn’t believe he was an angel.  Because, really?  He looked about as human as they came.  Except for the eyes, he thought.  He’d never seen eyes that blue.  “For starters, try not to get nabbed by vampires,” Dean said lightly, breaking eye contact.

Castiel watched the hunter as they continued walking.  He was about to question further, when the wall caved in beside them.  Gordon had tackled Sam to the ground, bricks covering them and dust rising into the air.

“Here,” Dean shoved a small blade into Castiel’s hand before running to help his brother.  The weapon was small, but it was better than nothing.  Castiel leaned against the wall, watching in a daze and trying to remain standing.  It was two against one, he thought.  They were trained hunters.  They would be able to fight off the vampire, Castiel was certain.

Gordon flung Sam several yards away, and the tall man hit his head hard.  He groaned in pain, but didn’t get up immediately.  Dean moved in to attack and the vampire anticipated his move.  He slammed Dean to the ground and Gordon attacked his neck, fangs digging in.  The hunter struggled to kick the vampire off of him, but failed.

Unable to stand by any longer, Castiel wobbled to the pair, fighting to keep his tired body moving.  He wanted to curse the fact that he had no control over his human body.  He was a a warrior of God and he was reduced to this?  He was a skilled fighter but now could barely even keep his body moving.  But there was one thing he could do, he thought with determination. 

Once he was closer to the vampire, he called out, “You wanted to try my blood, did you not?”

His words were ignored at first.  When Castiel drew the blade along his forearm, a thin stream of blood spilling down his arm, Gordon granted him his full attention.  The second’s distraction was enough for Dean to reach the machete that had been knocked away and decapitate Gordon.

“Shit,” Dean gasped as he stood, holding his neck to slow the bleeding.


	4. Chapter 4

All three men were exhausted by the time they made it back to the hotel.  Dean, feeling guilty for getting Castiel mixed in with vampires and the Winchester problems, let the man take his bed while he slept on the floor.  If he were honest, it looked like Castiel hadn’t had a decent night’s rest in days, if not longer, going by the bags under those blue eyes.

Sam had driven back while Dean patched up the cut on Castiel’s arm, who had promptly passed out once they reached the hotel.  The older hunter stared at the sleeping man with envy.  All either of them wanted to do was sleep, having spent the last thirty-six hours chasing vampires and hunting down Gordon.  But Dean’s wounds required immediate attention, else he bled to death. 

Sam finished working on the bandage at Dean’s neck, closing the first aid kit.  He looked over at Castiel thoughtfully.  “You still don’t think he’s telling the truth?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper in fear of waking the man.

Dean turned his gaze towards the bed.  Castiel seemed to be sleeping peacefully, looking for all the world innocent.  The hunter sighed and dropped his head to rest on the palms of his hands.  “I don’t know what to believe, Sam,” He said, mind racing.  “Dude shows up outta nowhere, the vamps wanted him for something, and says he’s an angel.  We’re just supposed to believe him?”

Granted, Gordon had said something was off about Castiel’s blood.  And when he cut his arm open, the vampire seemed pretty damned interested in his blood.  Must have been different enough to distract the crazy ass from sucking Dean dry.  For that, he at least owed the man, maybe hear him out.

Sam could hear the doubt in his brother’s voice.  And to anyone who didn’t know Dean better, that would be all they heard.  But as Sam had said earlier that day, he knew his brother better than anyone.  He had spent his entire life looking up to Dean, trying to be like his big brother.

And in those green eyes, Sam could see just the faintest flicker of an emotion he hadn’t seen in a long time—hope.

There was a soft smile on Sam’s face as he said, “I’m hitting the sack.  Sure you don’t want the bed?”

Dean grinned and stood from his chair, intending to stretch out on the floor.  He’d slept on worse before.  “Nah, I’m good.”

Morning came too quickly for either Winchester.  Castiel still slept, though he had managed to curl onto his side sometime during the night.  That, at least, let the brothers know he was still alive.

Sam took the bathroom while Dean left to grab some breakfast.  His stomach was growling and he realized their last meal had been breakfast yesterday.  Despite being sore and hungry and tired, he was actually feeling pretty good.  Gordon was finally dead.  Sam was alive.  And not to mention the ten grand.  With that thought, he grabbed something simple to eat.  He was eager to get on the road, preferably somewhere not in Michigan.

Of course, they needed to figure out what the hell was going on with Castiel.  They couldn’t just let the guy loose yet because angel or not, there was something strange going on.  But he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what the guy had to say.  He didn’t think he could take it if the guy really was an angel.  Because, really, why now of all his time does one decide to show up, especially when it wouldn’t do any good? 

He forced the thoughts away and tried to think about what he would do with the ten grand.  Casinos, bars, strip clubs.  Oh, there were so many things he could do…

He returned to the hotel with a smile to find a bleary-eyed Castiel sitting at the table across from Sam, whose hair was still damp.  “Breakfast!” Dean chimed as he set the bag down on the counter, pulling out his own sandwich.

“You’re awfully cheerful,” Sam commented as he reached into the bag.  He frowned when he realized there was nothing inside but grease-covered fast food, nothing healthy in sight.  Sighing, he took one sandwich while handing another to Castiel.

Castiel stared at the biscuit wearily, holding it carefully in his hands.  Dean watched with mild amusement as the man began peeling away the wrapper.  “Trust me, they taste better than they look,” he said through a mouthful, which earned a glare from Sam. 

Castiel stared at the man for a moment, finding no reason to doubt him, and took a bite.  The biscuit was dry, the sausage greasy.  Over all, it was something that he decided he could live without.  But he finished the sandwich, his stomach finally feeling better.  He had completely overlooked the fact that humans required sustenance to survive. 

Dean sat on the edge of the closest bed, tossing the wrapper into the bin and cheering when he made it.  “So, let’s pretend you are who you say you are,” he brought up, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands.  “That you’re an angel.  What are you doing here?”  He figured they may as well get this over with.  The sooner, the better.  Those casinos were calling his name.

Castiel could sense the distrust that Dean had for him and could see how hopeful Sam looked.  But Dean appeared to be the boss, the one that Castiel had to convince.  “I am trying to find my brother Gabriel—”

“Gabriel, the archangel?” Dean interrupted, doubtful.

Castiel hummed in agreement, “Gabriel went missing a long time ago, though most of my brothers believe him to be dead.  I was charged with finding him.  But in order to do so, I had to Fall.  I,” he paused then, suddenly unsure.  “Things have changed in Heaven.  Michael and Raphael have been fighting.  Angels have begun feeling emotions, and we were not Created to feel so many different emotions.  Devotion and faith, yes but anger, pride, doubt…”

Dean listened carefully as Castiel spoke.  The so-called angel was conflicted, it was plain as day on his face.  He actually felt kinda bad for the guy.  That was, if what he was saying was true.  Could just be some elaborate plot to get one over on the Winchesters.  Always turned out that way.  But he knew what it was like to have family argue all the time.  Hell, he’d had to put up with Dad and Sam. 

Castiel continued after a moment, “Joshua, one of the very few to speak to God, confirmed my suspicions.  God is gone.  And Gabriel was the last to see Him.”

“What are Michael and Raphael fighting about?” Sam inquired.  Dean cast a glance at him and he could tell that his brother was hanging on every word that Castiel said.  He wanted to scoff but held it in check.  They could at least hear the whole story before they started dissecting it.

Castiel pursed his lips in thought, gaze flickering between the brothers.  “I believe it has to do with the prophecy about Lucifer and the apocalypse.  Raphael wants to act on it, but Michael does not.”

Dean’s brows shot up in surprise.  “So the Devil is real?”  At Castiel’s nod, he felt his heart sink.  Sam sent him a look but the older Winchester refused to acknowledge his brother.  Of course it was his luck that the Devil would be real and not just a story at demon Sunday school.  That demon in Ohio, Casey, was right.  He wondered what else she had said was real.  Because even though she was a demon, she’d seen right through his bravery act.  Knew he was terrified of going to Hell.

He was so fucked.

Castiel frowned at the look on Dean’s face.  Just the barest flicker of fear crossed those green eyes before his face turned blank.  Suddenly, the darkness on his soul made sense.  He must have made a deal with a demon.  But he could not figure out why.  What reason could such a bright soul as Dean’s have to deal with a demon? 

He was about to speak, but Sam beat him to it, “What do you mean by apocalypse?”  He leaned forward in his chair, eager for an explanation.  “Like, end of the world apocalypse?”

The supposed-angel nodded, a solemn look on his face.  “There have been whispers that Lucifer will rise, bringing a demon army with him to fight the armies of Heaven, and Earth is the chosen battlefield.”

“Way to sugar-coat it, Cas,” Dean grumbled.  And he had been in a fairly good mood when he woke, despite having slept on the floor.  But things continued to go south and he felt like punching something.  Or gambling.  Something to relieve the stress.  Of course, he could hit up the local bar.  There had been some pretty hot women there the other night and sex was a damn good stress reliever.

“I do not understand…” Castiel said as he looked at Dean, head slightly tilted and brows furrowed.

“It’s an expression,” Dean returned.  He turned to his brother then, “You think the Devil’s Gate opening has anything to do with this?”

“Well, we don’t have much to go on.  But Azazel _was_ planning some kind of demon army,” Sam mentioned thoughtfully.

Dean added grimly, “And who better to lead a demon army than the Devil himself?”

“Azazel,” Castiel murmured, slightly surprised that the hunters knew of the demon.  From what he understood, the creature was secretive and very few had ever encountered him and lived to talk about it.  “What do you know of him?”

Sam and Dean shared a look before the younger spoke, “From what we know, he was building a demon army.  When I was a baby, he fed me his blood.”  Sam’s voice trailed off for a moment; it was still difficult to think that he had demon blood in him, that everything that had happened in the last two years, hell, his entire life, was because of him.  Ever since he was six months old, he had been marked by that yellow-eyed demon.  It made him sick to his stomach thinking about it.

If it weren’t for him, maybe Dean would have found an angel already.  But thinking those kinds of thoughts helped no one.  Toughening his resolve, he continued, “He wanted me to give in to the powers that the blood gave me, wanted me to lead the demons for whatever he was planning.  I guess it would’ve been Hell on Earth, literally.”

“He opened the gate, but we shut it.  Not before a shit ton of demons got out though,” Dean added.  “We’ve been going around since, trying to take down as many as those bastards as we can.” 

Castiel was amazed.  “I was not aware of the reason for his actions.”  He wondered if Zachariah and the other angels knew this.  But if they did, surely they would not have allowed such a thing to happen?  He could feel doubt spreading through him, strangely knowing that Zachariah knew and did nothing about it.  God would not have allowed such a thing and Castiel realized that his Father must have been gone for far longer than anyone knew.  Possibly even before Gabriel left.

“They didn’t tell you jack shit, did they?” Dean said, sounding a little angry.  “Figures that angels are dicks.”

Castiel visibly bristled, eyes turning hard, “We have a hierarchy, Dean.  There is no need for someone of my stature to be involved in something as grand as this.”

Dean scowled at the words.  It was obvious that the guy didn’t think much of himself, and for some reason that bothered him.  “Fuck that.  They’re your family, aren’t they?  That’s reason enough for you to know.”

“Dean, yelling isn’t going to help the fact that he doesn’t know everything,” Sam interjected.  Dean sighed, took a deep breath.  When he was calm again, Sam continued, “Right.  Well, let’s look at the facts.  Azazel was planning on releasing a demon army and opened the Devil’s Gate.”

“But we stopped him, so only some of the demons escaped.  We’ve been killing as many as we can—”

Castiel interjected, “How are you able to kill demons?  I thought you were only able to exorcise their vessels?” He had never heard of humans actually killing demons.  That power was restricted to angels and higher level demons, he’d thought.

Dean smiled as he stood.  He moved to his duffle bag and pulled out the old revolver, “Thanks to a man named Samuel Colt.  Dude created this gun with enough power to kill those fuckers.”

“And Ruby,” Sam added, “She fixed it after it broke during the Devil’s Gate.  Plus, she’s got that dagger.”

Dean glared at Sam, but Castiel only looked curious, glancing from one brother to another.  “Who is Ruby?”

“She’s uh,” Sam stumbled, unsure how to proceed.  He couldn’t look the angel in the eye, instead stared down at his shoes as he mumbled, “She’s a demon.”

“You should not trust a demon,” Castiel intoned as though the hunters were unaware of the fact.  “All demons have ulterior motives.  They are selfish creatures of sin.”

“Yeah, we got that,” Dean agreed and Castiel understood that the brothers were in disagreement about this particular demon. 

“She saved us!” Sam defended, fixing a determined gaze on his brother.  “I know demons are selfish, but all I’m saying is that we use her for information.  She knew how to fix the Colt.”  He didn’t want to mention that she might have a way to break Dean’s contract until Sam had some proof.  But if it were possible, then they had to at least pretend to go along with her.

“We don’t need her, Sam, we got Cas.  I’m pretty sure an angel trumps a demon,” Dean said, crossing his arms with a smug look on his face.  The room was silent for a moment and Castiel suddenly felt a burst of warmth in his chest at the hunter’s words.  He felt proud.  Proud because the hunter had finally accepted him as an angel. 

Sam smiled, glad that his brother was finally admitting that they had an angel with them after countless years searching.  He continued, changing the subject abruptly, “So, both Heaven and Hell are involved.  You don’t think the Apocalypse already started, do you?”

Castiel paused, thinking about everything that he had learned from the brothers and adding it to what he already knew about Heaven.  The plan he had only heard whispers of, Michael and Raphael arguing, God missing… It was entirely possible that Lucifer could walk the Earth again, but from what he knew, it was a very difficult process to free him.  So it seemed that it was just a matter of how Lucifer would be set free, the only thing he was uncertain of.  “It’s possible,” he said after a moment.

And with that realization, he knew he had to find his brother sooner rather than later; because Earth would barely survive a battle between Heaven and Hell.  He told the brothers this.

Dean groaned.  They just couldn’t catch a break.  First, Azazel and his demons and now this?  “How do you find an angel?”  It seemed like finding this Gabriel guy was their next case.

“Normally you just pray.  If directed towards a particular angel, they will be able to hear it and can decide if they wish to reveal themselves.  But Gabriel faked his death, so I assume he will not answer any prayers,” Castiel informed.

The older Winchester gaped.  “You serious?  All this time I could have just—” He shook the thought off, fists clenching at his side.  When he thought back to the few memories he had of his first two lifetimes, he had never prayed directly to an angel, only to God.  Was it really that easy?

Castiel watched him closely, those blue eyes taking him in curiously.  “Never mind,” Dean growled, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture.  “How are we supposed to find him?”

“There is an ancient ritual used to summon angels, but I do not know how to go about finding the items required.”  He looked guilty as his gaze darted between the brothers, “I was hoping you would be able to help me.”

“Well, we can’t,” Sam said thoughtfully, “But we have a friend that might be able to help.  He’s got a ton of crazy stuff.”

“So we’re going to Bobby’s,” Dean said, sounding defeated as he flopped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“Looks like.  Sorry, Dean, no casinos for you,” Sam laughed.

“Shut up, bitch,” the older Winchester grumbled, throwing his arm over his face.  He really didn’t want to deal with the world right now.  Maybe he was just asleep and things would be different when he woke.  He nearly laughed at his own naiveté.  Like that would happen. 

“Jerk,” Sam replied automatically, though he was feeling far from cheerful.  There was a possible apocalypse on their hands and they had to stop it.  Because there was no one else that would.  Looking at his brother, he knew Dean would feel the same way.  Though he would probably bitch and moan the whole way.

“There is something else I must tell you,” Castiel said reluctantly after a long moment, drawing both brothers’ attention.  His gaze rested on Dean when he continued.  “What do you know of life debts?”

“That’s when one person saves—wait, are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Dean sat up fully, staring hard at the angel.

Castiel tilted his head, stating, “I cannot read your thoughts, Dean.”

There was a frustrated groan and then a sigh.  “You think you owe me your life because I saved you?”

“Yes,” Castiel agreed as he picked at the hem of his tie.  “You have saved me twice and by angel tradition, I am bound to you until I can return the favor.”

“What do you mean by ‘bound’?” Sam stepped in.  He wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that.

Castiel turned his gaze away from his tie and watched Sam.  “It means that I have to serve him to my best ability and hopefully repay the favor.”

“So you’re the Chewbacca to my Han Solo,” Dean mused and almost laughed when the angel’s brows furrowed in confusion.  “Alright, Chewy, go shower so we can hit the road.” He didn’t know what to think about this life-debt thing just yet.  So he stuck to his fallback and made a joke of it.  He could think later, while driving.  With the music up, Sam could shove it.

“Shower?”

“Yeah, you know, personal hygiene and that crap.  Don’t want you stinking up the car.”

“I do not know how to take a shower,” Castiel told them sheepishly.

“What, seriously?  Shit, I forgot you’ve only been a human for a couple days,” Dean said as he stood, moving to the bathroom.  He motioned for Castiel to follow while sending a glare to Sam.  “Most showers work the same way.  You’ve got a knob that adjusts the temperature, red for hot water, blue for cold.”

He proceeded to show Castiel how to work the shower before leaving the angel in the bathroom on his own.

Sam gave him a look when Dean left the bathroom.  “What?”

“It’s just, for the first time things are starting to look up,” Sam admitted, a goofy smile on his face.

He knew that Sam was referring to the angel and not the potential apocalypse.  “Yeah, well, don’t get your hopes up,” Dean grumbled.  “Still going to Hell.”  He left the hotel room then, suddenly wanting some fresh air.

He knew Sam was giddy as a schoolgirl about the angel, but that didn’t change the fact that he would still be going to Hell in just a few months.  Even if he did manage to make the nerdy-looking angel fall in love with him.  And for that matter, why even bother trying?  It would only end up in disappointment for both of them.

Fuck, this whole situation was sounding more and more like a messed up Disney movie.  But he still couldn’t ignore that fluttering in his chest, the fact that he had actually found an angel.

Castiel was still uncertain about showering.  The water felt rather hot to the touch and steam was building up in the tiny room.  But hygiene was important, so he carefully stepped out of his clothes, folding them neatly and placing them on the toilet seat. 

He examined his body for a second time, noting the bruising around his wrists and especially the mark on his left arm.  A handprint was settled on the side of his arm, just above his elbow.  And he was certain that it would match Dean’s.  It was the mark that bound him to the man.  If he were still an angel, it would have bound his grace to Dean’s soul, but it was still contained to the blue sapphire settled against his chest.  There would be much greater leniency to the life-debt this way, and for that Castiel was thankful.  His mission was already turning out much more difficult than he had first expected.

  When he finally worked up the nerves to step inside the shower, he realized how foolish he had been.  The water felt amazing, pounding down his back and releasing the tension in the muscles he didn’t even know was there.  He tilted his head back, allowing the water to soak his hair.  Of everything that has happened in the last two days, this was certainly an improvement.

Dean had told him to use soap and shampoo, but he wasn’t sure which was which.  He grabbed one bottle and read the directions on the back.  They seemed fairly simple: massage onto scalp, rinse thoroughly and repeat as desired.  But how much was he supposed to use?

Squeezing a small amount onto his palm, he rubbed the fluid, testing its viscosity.  He poured a little more and began washing his hair.  Rinsing the shampoo away, he grabbed a bar of soap and proceeded to scrub clean.

There was dirt under his nails and he picked at it idly, realizing that there was more to hygiene than he first thought.  Not only showering, but his nails would grow and need trimming, as well as his hair.  He was struck again by how complicated being a human was.  Hopefully he would find Gabriel soon and could return to Heaven.

Once he was certain that he would not ‘stink’ as Dean put it, he shut off the shower and stepped out, drying quickly.  He dressed in the same clothes as before and exited the bathroom, finding Sam talking on the phone and Dean nowhere in sight.

“Alright, we’ll see you soon,” Sam was saying as he flipped his phone shut.  He eyed the clothes Castiel was wearing, noted the small bloodstains on the collar of the white shirt and the rumpled appearance.  “I think we’ll need to get you some new clothes before we head to Bobby’s.”

Castiel looked down at his outfit, tugging lightly on the shirt in confusion.  “What’s wrong with these?”

“For starters, you’ve been wearing the same clothes for two days now.  Normal humans change clothes every day, sometimes more.  Plus, those need to be washed,” Sam informed as he packed up his bag.

The fallen angel couldn’t deny Sam’s logic and he hummed in agreement. 

The hotel door opened at that moment, and Dean strolled in, looking more upbeat than he had when he left twenty minutes ago.  Sam informed him of Castiel’s need for new clothes and the older Winchester took in his appearance.  “Is that what all angels wear?”

Castiel shook his head, “No, our true forms are,” he searched for a word that was appropriate.  “We are not corporal, as humans are.  I found these on a mannequin in a shopping center.  They seemed suitable.”

“Seriously?”  Dean couldn’t believe that an angel stole clothes from a store.  It didn’t seem very angelic to him.

“I have no reason not to be,” Castiel said, puzzled.  He watched as Dean smiled and shook his head. 

“Alright, man.  We can hit up a thrift store before we head out.  Might was well stick around for lunch.  I saw this diner and it looked like they had some amazing pie,” Dean grinned at the thought of pie.  It had been awhile since he had any, and the thought of spicy apple or tangy cherry had his mouth watering.

“Dean, you’re drooling,” Sam commented, a smirk tugging at his lips.

The thrift store, it turned out, was surprisingly busy with old people.  Dean tugged Castiel towards the jeans, while Sam wandered around.  Dean took in the man’s form critically, then moved to the section of jeans he believed would fit Castiel.  Most of the jeans were outdated in fashion terms, but he found a few pairs that could possibly work.

“Hold these,” he shoved the pants towards Castiel, who took them without question, before moving to the shirts.  It was too cold for short sleeves, so he found a few long-sleeved button ups, some of which were actually nicer than the ones Dean wore.  “Alright, try these on.  Wanna make sure they fit.”

Castiel nodded and moved towards the small room that Dean indicated.  Dean flipped through the shirts while he waited.  He found a decent AC/DC shirt and grinned triumphantly when it was in his size. 

“Hey,” Sam said as he stood by his brother.  “Found a duffle bag.  But I think we’ll have to go to an actual shoe store.  Everything looks either too old or not functional at all.”

“I figured that.” Dean held on to the shirt as he headed towards the dressing room.  “How’s it comin’ in there, Cas?” He said after tapping lightly on the door.  There was a muffled reply and rustling of clothes. Dean frowned at getting no proper response, “You okay, man?”

“It’s these,” there was a pause and Dean had to hold back a laugh at the frustration in the man’s voice.  “…buttons, why are there so many?”

“Does everything fit okay, though?” Sam asked, shrugging at the look an elderly woman sent him.

“I believe so,” was the reluctant reply and the door swung open.  The angel’s face was flushed in annoyance, hair mussed even more, and the buttons done just one off so the shirt hung awkwardly.  The jeans seemed the perfect size, Dean noted appreciatively.  Castiel looked like he had something to say, the annoyance gone from his face and was replaced by uncertainty.

“But?” The older Winchester prodded.

“These pants, they’re uncomfortable.  They rub—”

“Okay, that’s enough.  Wait,” Dean paused once the words sunk in.  Castiel had said he had taken the clothes from a mannequin, and now the jeans were rubbing the wrong way?  “Cas, you’re not going commando, are you?”  And was that an exciting thought for his downstairs brain?

There was a head tilt and frown from the angel, “I do not understand.”

Sam took that moment to walk away, shaking his head and trying to hold back the laughter.  Dean tried to ignore the perverted thoughts as he said, “Are you wearing anything under the pants, Cas?”

“No.”

Rubbing his eyes and groaning, Dean said, “Alright, we’ll add that to the list.  Jeans will feel better with boxers on underneath.”

The attraction he felt towards the other man was understandable.  It had been a few months since he had been with anyone.  But he could _not_ act on those feelings.  Because a) The angel was stuck with them and Dean only did one-night stands because b) Dean sucked at relationships, if it wasn’t obvious at this point, and c) He would end up in hell regardless if the angel fell in love with him or not, so there was no point starting anything.

To fix this, he decided the next town they stopped in, he was hitting the bar.  Find a cute girl to flirt with and by morning he’d be set.  There was only so much his right hand could do. 

“Could I not wear something similar to my other pants?” Castiel frowned, uncertain of the idea of boxers or their purpose and doubtful that they would make jeans more comfortable.  He liked the feel of his other pants much better.

“Slacks don’t tend to hold up well,” Dean informed.  “But we could try and find some khakis or chinos.  They’re a little more durable.”

Castiel dipped his head, relieved.  When they found a few of the mentioned pants, Castiel returned to the dressing room to try them on.  They were not as rough on his skin, a softer material, and he liked the navy and grey pair Dean had found for him.  He had called them ‘slim-fit’ and fit Castiel better than his black pants.

They added a pair of sleep pants and a couple T-shirts to the pile before checking out, along with the duffle bag Sam had found and Dean’s AC/DC shirt.  Now, they just needed to find a Wal-mart or something and they’d be set.


	5. Chapter 5

Connie sighed tiredly, rubbing her eyes to relieve the burn.  She hadn’t gotten any proper sleep for the third night in a row, and the coffee was not helping.  Reaching for yesterday’s newspaper, she flipped through idly before a small article caught her attention.  Pulling her glasses from their case, she slid them on so she could read more clearly.

_Young Man Dies in Sleep_

She read the article, but there wasn’t much information besides the headliner.  A college student went to bed and didn’t wake up.  The medical examiner was baffled, it was as though his body just quit.  What really stood out to Connie was the fact that she had read a similar article a few weeks ago, from several towns over.

Rising, she moved to the study.  She was certain she had kept the article.  “Now where the hell did I put it?” She mumbled aloud, running a hand through her short hair.

“What’re you looking for?” her daughter asked from the hallway, having noticed her mother in there on her way to get some breakfast.

“Just this article, the one from up north when we went to that show,” she said and before any more words were spoken, she let out a triumphant cry.  “Found it!  Knew it was somewhere.”

“What’s so special?”  Connie held the article out for her daughter to read.  She read much faster than the older woman and had finished the article in mere moments.  She handed the article back to her mother.  “So some kid died in his sleep.  Sucks, but I don’t see the point.”

“This is the problem,” Connie said as she led Haley to the kitchen where she left yesterday’s paper.  She pointed out the article, the one that was nearly identical to the old one, just a different kid from a different town.

“You think they’re related?” Haley asked as she finished reading.  She moved to grab a bowl of cereal, eating slowly.

“Well,” Connie started as she looked over both articles.  “It’s just unusual.”

There was a long pause, the sound of a metal spoon hitting the plastic bowl every now and then.  When Haley finished, Connie still examining the papers, she rinsed her bowl in the sink.  “I’ll go do chores,” she said and left the kitchen after shrugging into a jacket and making sure gloves were in the pocket.

Connie hummed noncommittally, before standing and returning to the study.  She was certain she had saved the phone number he had given her all those years ago. 

The Winchesters and Castiel sat in a booth at a local diner only an hour later, having found all the essentials for Castiel at a discount store.  Dean didn’t bother looking at the menu, knew what he was going to order.  Sam took a quick glance at it to confirm they had salads.  But Castiel lingered over the options.  The descriptions of the meals were adequate, but all they told him was what the food was.  It didn’t tell him what it tasted like or how it smelled, or even what it looked like.

Dean swiped a hand across his face, sighing.  “Dude, just pick something.  Don’t like it, we can order something else,” he said gruffly as he watched the angel stare blankly at the menu.  Sam pulled a bitch face at Dean before he corrected himself.  In a mellow tone he suggested, “How about the chicken strips?  It’s a pretty basic meal.”

Castiel tore his gaze away from the menu to look at Dean.  He didn’t know what the angel was searching for, but Dean returned the stare unflinchingly.  Guy seemed satisfied because he nodded and when the waitress returned with a notepad ready to jot down their orders, Castiel took Dean’s suggestion.  But then she presented him with a confusing decision, “Barbeque, ranch or honey mustard?” 

His gaze instinctively sought Dean’s, though he didn’t know why.  Perhaps it was just that he knew a lot about food.  But that didn’t feel completely right. 

The hunter seemed to know the problem because he responded, “All three.  And I’ll take a bacon cheeseburger, and a slice of whatever pie you’d recommend.”  The last bit was said in a light tone and he winked at the girl before she smiled and turned to take Sam’s order then darted away.

“What did she mean?” Castiel asked after taking a drink of his water.

“They’re types of dipping sauces.  Barbeque is traditional with chicken, but ranch and honey mustard are pretty good,” Sam explained as he unrolled his napkin to reveal a knife and fork.

Their food came not too long later and Castiel stared at the different sauces.  Dean watched out of the corner of his eye as the angel dipped a finger into the barbeque and slipped the digit into his mouth to taste the sauce.  He then proceeded to the ranch and the honey mustard, pausing with his finger in his mouth to savor the taste of the third sauce.  Dean had to bite back a groan, his pants suddenly tighter.  He had to know what he was doing, didn’t he? 

Castiel hummed and pulled the honey mustard closer.  The chicken was better than the sandwich he had for breakfast, but it wasn’t what he assumed people called delicious.  Maybe he was adjusting poorly, if he didn’t care for human food.  But, he didn’t have much to base his observation on.

Dean devoured his burger, trying his best not to look at Castiel, and began digging into his slice of mixed berry pie.  Too bad it wasn’t apple.  But the pie was good, nice and sweet with a hint of tart.  He looked up when he realized someone was watching him.  “What?” he directed towards the angel, almost defensively.  Then he realized that Castiel wasn’t looking at him, but the pie.

Castiel watched in interest.  The pie smelled rather good and he wondered if it tasted the same.  It certainly seemed more appealing than the chicken strips or any of the sauces.

Sam looked between the two, noticing the way Castiel was watching the pastry.  He snickered, “I think you might have to share, Dean.”

With a sigh, Dean sliced off a chunk of his pie and scooped it onto Castiel’s plate.  The angel looked surprised, but the hunter said confidently, “Now this, you’ve gotta like.”

Using the fork provided, Castiel managed to get a piece onto the utensil and raised it to his mouth carefully.  His eyes widened and he hummed in approval before and he took another, larger, bite.  He managed to finish his half of the slice before Dean. 

Dean had to look away.  The sounds he was making had to be illegal!  If he didn’t know any better, he’d say the guy was doing it on purpose.  “Guess the angel has a sweet tooth,” he laughed, shaking his head and trying not to think of how affected he was by the guy.  He really needed to get laid.

“Sweet tooth?” Castiel cocked his head to the side.

“It means you like sweet things.  Like pie,” Dean indicated the last bite of pie on his plate.  Damn, the guy was making it hard to clear his thoughts.  First, the whole commando thing, then the moaning, and now this?  He forced himself to think of something else, anything.

“I see,” Castiel said as he contemplated the phrase.  Like many of the other things Dean said, it confused him.  Humans certainly had strange expressions.

They left not long after, finally ready to head to Bobby’s.

Hours later, Castiel shifted for the umpteenth time in the backseat of the car.  It was oddly confining and he felt like a caged animal.  Not only that, but they were travelling so _slow_.  He longed to fly again, able to travel distances in the blink of an eye.  He caught Dean’s concerned gaze in the rearview mirror.  “You okay back there?” The hunter questioned, turning down the too-loud music.

“I feel restless,” Castiel said after a moment, believing that was the correct term.  “I am not used to traveling this way.”  He moved to the other side of the seat, trying to find a more comfortable position.  Once he had his legs stretched out as much as he could, he felt a bit better.

“We’ll stop in the next town,” Sam informed before going back to his phone to fiddle with it.

“It’s getting late,” Dean added.  “We’ll just find a hotel and drive the rest of the way to Bobby’s in the morning.  Shouldn’t be too much farther.”  Normally, they would drive through the night.  He was used to driving long hours.  But Castiel wasn’t and he didn’t want to push the angel-turned-human.

Castiel nodded and turned his gaze out the window.  There were few other cars on the road and they passed in a blur.  The sun had set not too long ago and only the lights from the passing cars interrupted the darkness.  He rested his head against the window, the glass cool.  He was oddly tired, despite having a rather easy day compared to his first two days as a human. 

The Impala rumbled and Castiel realized that Dean hadn’t turned the music back up.  He was thankful because he didn’t particularly like Motorhead, whoever that was.  But the steady roar of the engine and the constant tremble of the car were soothing and the angel felt himself losing the battle to stay awake.

He was standing in that beautiful room again, the one with the paintings and antique furniture.  It was quiet and when he moved, there was absolutely no sound.  When the familiar voice called out to him, it surprised Castiel, stark and loud against the silence.  He turned and found Joshua smiling at him.

“How is everything, Castiel?” His brother asked in that soft tone of his, breaking the silence.

“I have yet to find Gabriel,” Castiel said steadily.  “Being human is more complex than I had anticipated.”

Joshua nodded, noticing the bandage on Castiel’s forehead.  The older angel moved to stand directly in front of Castiel.  He brought a hand to the wound and healed it.  When his fingers lingered, Castiel realized his brother was waiting for permission.  A slight nod and Joshua was searching his memories of the past few days. 

A moment passed and Joshua pulled away.  “I see.  The ritual will work, as long as you can find everything.  But Castiel, you must hurry.  Michael and Raphael have learned of your betrayal,” he forced the word out as though it was painful to say, “and angels stationed to watch earth will be looking for you.”

Castiel frowned at the news, but grateful for the warning..  “Then I will do so.  Thank you, Joshua, for letting me know, and for healing me.  But is it true?”

Joshua hummed, mouth a thin line before he explained, “Sadly, yes.  Raphael intends to carry on with the Plan, the one to release the Morningstar.  Which is why it is of utmost importance that you succeed in this mission, Castiel.  We need Gabriel.”

“I understand,” Castiel said grimly.  There was a long pause and the younger angel found himself staring at a painting, one of strange shapes.  He could not make out the intent behind the art and returned his gaze to his brother. 

Joshua had turned away in the brief stillness.  “As for the life debt, there is nothing I can do,” he spoke sadly.  “It is not as powerful, since you are currently human.  But it is valid and you must honor the bond.”  He turned sincere brown eyes to Castiel, who nodded.

“I thought as much,” Castiel relented with a sour look.  “I will do my best to find Gabriel, regardless.”

“Wake up, Cas,” Dean’s voice broke through, sounding vaguely annoyed even to Castiel’s ears. 

The room began dissolving around them and Joshua faded away.  “This will be the last time I contact you, Castiel.  Raphael is suspicious and I cannot alert him.  Good luck, my brother.”  The words echoed in the darkness.

“Cas!” Dean shouted this time and Castiel jerked awake, blinking quickly.  It was still dark out, but the car had stopped moving.  Dean was in the front seat behind the wheel, half turned to look at Castiel.  Sam had already climbed out of the car.  “We’re here.”

Castiel sat up, shutting the door almost awkwardly as he got out.  It felt great to stand and he stretched his tight muscles.  He was glad to be out of the car.  It was a far cry from flying.  From the trunk, Dean handed him the duffle that contained his new clothes and other items, and Castiel took it carefully.  The trunk slammed shut and the three entered the hotel room.

“Had a good cat nap, huh Cas?” Dean said as he tossed his duffle on the floor next to the small table and chairs set against the far wall.

“Cat nap?” Castiel cocked his head to the side.  He wasn’t familiar with the phrase.  He assumed that Dean meant the short rest he had in the car, but had no idea how cats were involved.  Instead, “My brother spoke to me.”

That perked the brothers’ interest and Sam sat on the end of the closest bed, “You mean Gabriel?  I thought we were supposed to be finding him.”

Castiel shook his head and moved further into the room, stopping at almost an equal distance between the Winchesters.  Sam was on the end of the bed and Dean was standing by the window next to the table, peeking out briefly.  “No, not Gabriel.  Joshua,” he corrected.

Dean turned to look at the fallen angel, confusion on his features.  “How the hell did that happen?  Some kind of hoodoo mind chat?”

Castiel paused, thinking of the best way to explain the experience.  “Angels have the ability to,” he started slowly, voice low, “dream walk, I suppose.  We can enter a person’s dreams in order to communicate, regardless if we know their location or not.”

“So you conked out and big brother took that chance to chat you up?” Dean summed as he slumped into the chair with a sigh.

The angel’s brows furrowed at Dean’s words, “Yes.”

“What did he say?” Sam jumped in, looking from Dean to Castiel curiously.

 “He believes the ritual will work.  But the other angels, ones watching over Earth, will be on high alert.”

“So what the hell are we looking for?” The older Winchester said as he stood, suddenly feeling on edge.  Because not only were demons and other supernatural shit after them, now angels were too.  Just another day in the life of Dean Winchester, he figured.

“The essence of acacia, anointing oil, and the blood of the righteous,” Castiel listed as though reading from a text.  “Though finding a righteous person may prove difficult.  Normally, an angel’s blood would suffice, but in the eyes of Heaven, I am considered a traitor.” 

His words were matter of fact and Dean couldn’t help the tug he felt in his chest.  The dude was down here, risking his life so he could save his family, and they thought he was a traitor?  It just pissed him off but he kept quiet, knowing that if he said anything, it would lead to an argument.  And he was too hungry and tired for that.

“Acacia?” Sam murmured thoughtfully.  He remembered when their father made a deal with the Yellow Eyed Demon, and the list of items he had needed, though he had lied to Sam’s face about what the ingredients were for.  “Isn’t that used to summon a demon?”

“The ritual is very similar,” Castiel agreed.

“Huh,” Sam said.  He stood and reached into his duffle bag, pulling out the first aid kit.  He tossed it to Dean, “You should change your bandages.  I’ll go grab something for dinner.”

Dean grumbled as he caught the white box.  “Yeah, sure.  Don’t forget the pie!”

The younger Winchester scoffed, shaking his head.  Sometimes it seemed like his brother never changed.  It was relief to see Dean acting a little like his old self.  “Whatever.  Cas, you want anything in particular?”  Sam turned his gaze to the angel, curiously waiting an answer.

Castiel thought over his options.  He was very limited in his knowledge of human food.  The sausage biscuit was unpleasant and the chicken strips were satisfactory.  But there was one thing he knew he liked very much, “I would also like some pie.”

Sam gaped, “I can’t believe you’ve already corrupted an angel!” while Dean cheered, “Atta boy!” and clapped Castiel on the back with a grin on his face.  The action earned the older brother the famous Bitch Face #17, “Grow up, Dean!”

“Whatever, I’ll be back,” Sam griped as he grabbed the car keys and exited the room.

Castiel stared at the door for a long moment, unsure of what he should do.  Dean was still standing next to him and he could see the man’s soul brighten just a bit more.  He knew it must be a relief to have the darkness dampened, even just a bit, so he turned to face the hunter.  “Dean, you need to clean your wounds,” he said after a beat.

Dean tensed when he noticed how close Castiel was.  Sure, he may have initiated the contact, having clapped the man on the back in his amusement.  But that didn’t mean he had to get closer.  Especially when downstairs Dean was suddenly perking up in interest.  It felt like he was just a horny teenager, crushing on the hot school nurse.  It’d been so long since he’d been this sexually interested in someone and unable to act out those interests.

  “Dude,” he said, bringing his hands to the angel’s shoulder and pushing him a step back, “Personal space.”  He ignored the strange weight that settled over him, not wanting to touch it with a ten-foot pole.  He had other things to worry about.

Brows knitted together and the angel’s head tilted slightly, like a confused puppy.  “I do not understand,” he said after a moment of trying to determine what Dean meant.

Dean sighed, dropping his hands.  He had thought Sammy was the only one who had the sad puppy look mastered, but this guy came pretty damn close, head tilt and all.  “When people interact with each other, they have a bubble around them—not a real bubble, imaginary.”  God, he wished Sam could explain this.  Kid could do it better for one and was a helluva lot more patient.  “When you talk to someone, don’t get closer than an arm’s length.  Most people don’t like it, kinda uncomfortable.  Unless you’re trying to make a move on a chick, then it’s okay.”

“Make a move?” Castiel asked curiously.

“Hitting on, flirting, you know?”

“You mean the process of courtship,” Castiel said, finally understanding the concept.  Then he frowned as he realized the impact of the man’s words.  “But I have no interest in making a move,” he tried the phrase uncertainly, “on anyone.”

Dean nearly laughed, the words had sounded strange coming from Castiel.  “Yeah, okay, man.”  He stepped away as he moved into the bathroom, tugging at the bandages on his neck.  “Get yours off, too.  Might as well get it done and over with.  Else Sammy’ll be a bitch about it.” 

Castiel said nothing but pulled at the bandages on his forehead and arm.  To be honest, he had actually forgotten about them.  “What the hell?” Dean exclaimed as he noticed that Castiel’s injuries were gone.

“Joshua healed my wounds,” he explained simply, like it was completely normal.

“Another angel trick, huh?  Must be damn useful,” Dean said thoughtfully before returning to his own injuries.

Sam parked the Impala at the back of the mall parking lot—his brother could be paranoid about the vehicle and if there was a single dent or scratch in the sleek, black paint, Dean would have his head.  Not that Sam minded walking that far, it was good to stretch his legs after sitting in a car all day.

He had only made it halfway to the building when he felt someone following him.  And it wasn’t just a coincidence.  His skin crawled and he knew it was something supernatural.  He continued walking as though everything were fine, that he was oblivious, while reaching for the small dagger he kept in his jacket pocket at all times.  Better safe than sorry.

Sam spun on his heel as he pulled the blade from its hiding place, ready for an attack.  “Jesus,” he exclaimed when he spotted the blonde woman standing behind him with her arms crossed, a defiant smirk on her features.  “What are you doing, Ruby?”

“Haven’t seen you in awhile.  Figured I’d say hey,” she said as she stepped towards him.  She froze one she got close enough, nose wrinkling in disgust.  “What is that?”

Sam frowned, confused.  “What?” He asked, slightly affronted.  He knew demons had a sensitive sense of smell, but he had showered that morning and couldn’t smell—then he realized she must mean Castiel.

“You smell like,” she said slowly as though uncertain the scent was really what she thought it was.  “Like an angel, and buddy, I don’t mean that as a compliment.”

Her words were more proof that Castiel was really an angel.  “Angel?” Sam said, doing his best to sound confused.  Because he was fairly certain that letting Ruby know about Castiel would be a bad idea and he didn’t trust her.  “They’re real?”

Brown eyes narrowed suspiciously, watching every little detail.  After a long moment, she seemed satisfied.  “Must be imagining things,” she shrugged and began walking towards the entrance of the mall.  “Anyway, I’ve got some news.”

She opened the door and entered, Sam following closely before walking by her side once more.  “Is it about Dean’s contract?” Sam asked hopefully.  She had said she knew of a way to get out of it and he was tired of her pulling him around.

“Sorry, Sam.  But this is about you.  We got a new boss, see.  And word is, they want you dead,” Ruby said as she slowed her pace and stopped in front of a food stand.

Sam’s eyes widened, “What?”  He wasn’t surprised that demons wanted him dead.  That was old news.  But the fact that there was a new leader did.  He quickly ordered a few burgers and a salad.  The stand didn’t sell pie, so he’d have to get that somewhere else.  Turning back to Ruby, he asked, “Who is it?”

“Don’t know.  So far it’s only been talk.  But you better watch your back,” she said.

Before Sam could say anything else, his order was called and he retrieved it.  When he turned around, Ruby was gone.  He cursed, standing there for a few moments and scanning the crowd.  But she was nowhere to be found.  With a sigh, he headed down the hallway to find a place that sold pie.

Dean had just collapsed on the couch, ready to watch some Dr. Sexy, when his phone rang.  He sat up reluctantly, reaching for the phone that had interrupted his much needed relaxation.  It wasn’t often they got a room with a couch, and sitting on a bed to watch TV wasn’t the most comfortable after awhile.

“Bobby, what’s up?” Dean answered when he recognized the gruff voice.  Castiel chose that moment to leave the bathroom, dressed in a pair of sleeping pants and tee shirt, hair damp and plastered to his forehead.  He had to force himself to look away and had completely missed what Bobby said.  “What?”

“Idjit, I said I’ve got a case for ya,” Bobby groused, before giving Dean the details.

Castiel sat down on the couch, the opposite side of Dean.  He knew he had offended the hunter by being too close to him, especially since Dean couldn’t even look at him now.  He had seen Dean look away when he had exited the bathroom after showering.  A strange niggling feeling caught in his chest but it faded when Dean was apparently okay with him sitting on the same couch.  Castiel wanted to make sure that he didn’t offend the man again. 

His gaze turned from the hunter to the television, where some show was playing.  Most of the people were wearing white and they appeared to be standing very close to one another, closer than an arm’s length, talking.  Castiel looked to Dean, who was still on the phone with a man named Bobby.  Humans were so confusing.  Or perhaps it was just Dean, Castiel thought after a moment before glancing back to the television.

The couple was now pressing their lips together in what looked like it would be awkward and uncomfortable.  Was this a form of courtship?  It seemed very unusual to Castiel.

“Yeah, we’ll take it.  Hey, I can’t explain right now, but we need some supplies,” Dean said and listed the items needed.  Then, “Is there anything I’m missing, Cas?”

Castiel turned to Dean, reluctant to dismiss the show.  It was very fascinating and he had learned that the people were doctors, though they didn’t appear to be doing medical things.  Just continuously hitting on one another.  He thought over the hunter’s words before responding, “No, I believe that is everything.”

“You boys best not be doin’ somethin’ stupid,” Bobby said and hung up after promising to look into getting the items.

When Castiel immediately returned to watching Dr. Sexy, Dean let out a laugh, causing the angel to frown in confusion, blue eyes focused on the hunter.  “Show’s amazing, isn’t it?” Dean said when he could catch his breath.

“These doctors, they do not seem very competent.  Should they not be replaced?”

“No!” Dean insisted.  “They’re what make the show great.  See, it’s not about their actual jobs, most times.  It’s about their relationships.”

“Oh.” Castiel watched the man a moment longer before Dean broke the gaze.  He couldn’t figure out why he felt oddly empty all of a sudden.  There were some emotions he could sort out, but this one was strange.  The sudden emptiness and a tightening in his chest.  He thought about asking Dean, but the ache increased at the thought so he decided against that idea.

Instead, he returned to watching the show.

Dean had already seen this episode, so instead he took to peeking at the angel who was completely invested in the show.  The guy was actually kinda plain-looking when he thought about it.  Had high cheekbones and a straight nose with slightly chapped lips.  Certainly wasn’t someone he’d normally look twice at.  Until you noticed those eyes.  Damn, he had a thing for blue eyes.  And it always felt like the guy was looking right through him. 

And maybe he was, Dean thought.  Dude was an ex-angel, could probably see into his soul.  The thought made him a little sick to his stomach.  He knew his soul had to be dark and twisted.  A witch had her brand on him for three lifetimes and now a demon’s got its hold on him too.  Couldn’t be much to look at.

Something on Castiel’s left arm caught his attention.  It looked like some kind of burn, the skin angry and red looking.  Without realizing it, he had already scooted closer—breaking his rule of personal space—and was tugging up the sleeve to get a better look.

“What the hell?” He gasped, looking into Castiel’s eyes for some kind of explanation.  Because he had no idea what could have caused that. 

Castiel didn’t know what the hunter was doing until he followed the man’s gaze.  When he saw the reddened handprint, he understood.  “It signifies the life-debt.  Normally, two angels’ grace will bind to one another.  But as you are human and I am Fallen, this is the result.”

Dean tore his gaze from the angel, looking at the handprint.  His hand hovered over the mark uncertainly.  He remembered, just after he saved Castiel when the guy passed out, that burning he felt when he touched him.  Hadn’t thought anything of it until now.  To be honest, he had pushed the whole life-debt thing to the back of his mind.

Sam returned then and Dean pulled away quickly, sitting at the other end of the couch.  His face felt hot, but thankfully the lights were off and only the dim glow of the TV lit the room.

Sam had to stifle a groan, “You’ve got him watching Dr. Sexy of all things?  At least you could put it on the discovery channel.  Might actually learn something.”

“This show is intriguing,” Castiel commented quickly, shifting so he could see the younger man.  Blue eyes were earnest as he said, “I find it very informing.”

The words left Sam speechless, mouth open and eyes blinking.  “You got the pie?” Dean demanded with a smirk and when Sam shot him a glare, he completely ignored it.

Sam snapped out of his shock at his brother’s words.  “Yes, Dean.  I brought pie.  But they only had key lime.”  Sam pulled out the food and set everything on the small table.

Dean jumped up and moved to the table, grabbing his slice of pie.  He thought about taking both, but so far pie was the only thing that Castiel really liked to eat.  And he knew exactly how good pie could taste.  Sometimes, it was the only thing that could satisfy him.  “Bobby just called,” he said as he popped off the lid and grabbed his fork, digging in.  Around a mouthful of pie, he said, “One of his contacts thinks something’s going on in Illinois.  People dying in their sleep.”

Sam scowled at his brother, who continued to talk with a mouthful.  When he had finally swallowed, Sam continued the conversation “Another case?  But Dean, we’re already working one.”

Dean shrugged, “I asked Bobby to get the things Cas needs for the ritual.  Nothing to do until then, so we might as well save a few lives.”

“You okay with this, Cas?” Sam cast a concerned glance to the angel, who had only just stood to investigate the food Sam brought.  He sent a disdainful look at the television, which was now at a commercial break.  Poor guy was going to be a changed man—angel—with Dean around.  First the junk food and now television.  He wouldn’t be surprised if Dean got the angel to cuss.

“Dean is right,” Castiel commented idly as he unwrapped the chicken sandwich Sam handed him uncertainly.  He eyed his piece of pie that was sitting across the table before glaring at the burger.  “I am unable to do anything in regards to finding my brother until the items have been procured.”

Dean smiled after swallowing a mouthful of pie at the look on the man’s face.  Dude looked like the sandwich was going to poison him!  He shook his head before taking another bite.

“Okay.  I guess we’ll head there in the morning.  It’s only a couple hours away, anyway,” Sam said as he sat down on the edge of his bed, salad in hand.

Dean cocked a brow, “Glad that’s settled.”


	6. Chapter 6

“So Cas, what’s heaven like?” Dean commented idly while driving down the interstate.  Only after the words had left his mouth and the shit-eating grin on Sammy’s face did he realize it sounded like a cheesy pick-up line.

 But the angel found nothing strange about his words.  Castiel was completely oblivious to the glare Dean was giving Sam, and to Sam giving Dean a knowing smile. 

It was hard to describe how everything was focused, almost narrowed to a point, no distractions.  “It is dull compared to being here,” Castiel said after a long moment of thought.  His gaze turned toward the passing scenery, watching things go by in a blur.  It was gray and bleak outside and it reminded him of home.  He was slightly worried when he realized that he didn’t miss it.  At least, not being there.  He truly missed flying, wishing he could feel the wind on his face and through his wings.  And he did miss a few of his brothers and sisters, ones he’d been close to.  Balthazar, Uriel, even Anael.  But it had been so long since he’d seen her.  “Like looking through a window.  But here, I’m finding that I’m on the outside.”

“Is that a good thing?” Sam ventured, shifting so he could actually see Castiel rather than looking in the rearview mirror.

Castiel wasn’t sure anymore.  He knew that he should say that no, it wasn’t.  He was an angel of the Lord, a warrior of God and belonged in Heaven.  But at the same time, he found he enjoyed being on Earth, spending time with the Winchesters, though it’d been just a couple days.  Even if it hadn’t started out well.  So he settled, “It is unexpected.”

There was a silence after that.  Dean paid attention to the curves in the road, Sam was flipping through their dad’s journal idly, and Castiel continued to stare out the window.  According to Dean, they only had a little farther to go before they reached their destination.  The angel couldn’t wait to get out and stretch his legs, get some fresh air.  It was warm in the car.  He unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, which helped a bit.

Dean spared a glance in the rearview mirror every now and then.  Couldn’t help it, his eyes just kept going back to Castiel.  There was something about him, he just felt relief when the angel was near.  And he had no idea if that was just an angel thing or a Castiel thing.  He caught a glimpse of movement and his eyes were drawn like magnets to the mirror, to a flash of pale skin.  It suddenly felt warmer in the car and he cranked his window down a bit, trying hard not to look at the exposed collarbone and the little valley at the base of Castiel’s neck..  Could use a bit of fresh air.  But the surprised gasp from behind him had Dean glancing to the mirror for the umpteenth time.

“I’ll roll it up in a minute, just needed some air,” Dean grumbled as he looked into the blue eyes.

Castiel found Dean’s gaze in the mirror, “It feels nice,” he admitted before shifting closer to the window.

Dean frowned, “If you want air, just roll the window down.”

The angel cocked his head in confusion.  Sam shifted in his seat, leaning a bit over the back.  “That handle,” he pointed to a metal bar with a knob on the end.  “Just spin that handle to roll it down.”

Castiel reached for the bar and tried it.  At first, it didn’t budge.  Then he tried tugging it the other way and it gave.  The window slowly came down with a rush of cold air to his face.  He felt like he was home and closed his eyes, leaning forward.  He was barely aware of one of the brothers telling him not to lean out too far.

It was slower than he was used to and much colder now that his human body was so aware of different sensations.  But the air pushing across his face and through his hair was familiar.  Father, how he missed flying.

He reluctantly pulled away when his face felt too cold, body starting to tremble, and he rolled the window up, enjoying the last bit of air before it was sucked away.  When he caught Dean’s gaze in the mirror, the man had a lopsided grin on his face.  “You sure you’re not part dog?” He chuckled lightly.

“I do not understand.  I am just as human as you,” Castiel said with bewilderment.

“Dean’s just being an idiot.  Dogs like to stick their heads out of windows,” Sam explained after punching Dean in the shoulder, not too hard to cause his brother to lose control of the car.

“I understand,” Castiel responded knowingly.  “I was reminded of flying.”

“Wait, so you actually have—had wings?” Sam said, eyes wide with interest.  His gaze flicked behind Castiel, as though he expected a pair of white, fluffy wings to suddenly appear.  He was almost disappointed when they didn’t.

“Yes.”  Castiel paused then, remembering Joshua’s compliment.  He said matter-of-factly, pride in his voice, “I was told I was one of the most graceful in flight.”

Dean’s breath caught at the sight of the angel’s smile.  It was the first time he had seen the look on his face and it suited him.  Barely there, corners only just upturned.  But the smile lit up his eyes, making them seem even bluer, if that was possible.  He remembered he was supposed to be driving and tore his gaze back to the road, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

An hour later, they turned onto a side road.  It was tiny, barely wide enough for the bulky frame of the Impala, and was torn up with potholes everywhere.  “Dammit,” Dean cursed as he slowed the car to a crawl down the lane.  He could see an old farm house half a mile up with a red barn just behind it.  From Bobby’s description, it was the right place.  But dammit, the road was terrible on his baby.

Just as he pulled to a stop in what looked like a good place to park, a woman stepped out of the house.  She was middle aged, short blonde hair, and a grim expression on her face.  “You the Winchesters?” The woman had a faint country drawl as she spoke once the three had gotten out of the car.

“That’s us,” Sam said.  “I’m Sam, this is Dean and Castiel.”

“Castiel, huh?” the woman cocked a brow in the angel’s direction.  She introduced herself, “I’m Connie.  Bobby Singer and your father helped me, oh, probably ten or so years ago with a poltergeist.  Great men.”

“That they are,” Dean agreed with a soft smile on his features and Sam shared the look.

Castiel glanced at the hunter curiously.  He knew that Bobby was a hunter, as the Winchesters had gone to him for help in locating the materials for the ritual.  But he had not known that their father was a hunter as well.  Had they grown into the lifestyle?  Then he realized that it was likely, as Sam had been infected with demon blood when he was an infant.

The sudden interest in their past took Castiel by surprise.  As an angel, a soldier of God, his thoughts were supposed to be solely focused on the current mission.  But he found he wanted to know more about the hunters that he was traveling with, regardless of their importance in his mission to find Gabriel.  And that confused the angel, because it was abnormal.

He really needed to find Gabriel.

“Anyway, glad you came.  There’s been another death.”  Connie led them inside the farmhouse, into a tiny kitchen.  On the table, there were several papers strewn about in chaos.  She hovered over the papers for a moment before pulling out one article.  “This is the first one.  Happened about four or so months ago in a town few hours drive north of here.  Me and my daughter, we were there for a rodeo and I happened to pick up the local paper,” she explained.

Sam took the article, noting that there wasn’t much information given besides the name of the young man who died, where he lived, and the fact that he had been perfectly healthy.  Connie showed them another article and it was nearly the same, but the town was about an hour south of the first one.  The third, only an hour from their current location.

“It’s moving,” Sam commented, pulling out his phone.  The signal wasn’t the best, but he pulled up the GPS and punched in the three towns.  “It’s like it’s traveling this interstate and hitting small towns along it.”

Dean looked at the phone, noticing the pins on the digital map.  The creature was traveling south it looked like.  “What’s the next town off the interstate?” He asked.

“Here,” Connie said with a horrified expression on her face.  “You don’t think it’ll…”

“Don’t know for certain,” Dean started.  “But it looks like it’s possible.”

They got directions into the last targeted town and found the library to do some research without the prying eyes of Connie.  Not that she was troublesome; it was just easier to do the job without civilians lurking over their shoulders.

“So they’re just dying in their sleep.”  Dean leaned against the table, crossing his arms. “And it looks like it’s some kinda demon.”  There had been lightning storms all over the area. 

 Sam scooted his chair back, giving his eyes a rest from staring at the computer screen and the newspaper articles Connie had given them.  “Could be an incubus or succubus?” he commented, trying to think of any creatures that attacked people in their sleep.

“Guess we have to check out the bodies,” Dean grimaced.  They had seen plenty of dead bodies in their lifetimes.  And though it got easier, it still sucked.  But it was still better than dealing with grieving families, which was what Sam was going to do. 

The three stopped at the first hotel they found and booked a room.  Like all the rest, it wasn’t much but it at least had a couch like the last one.  Both brothers began shifting through their respective duffle bags, pulling out suits and ties.  Castiel watched with interest and when Dean noticed the look he said, “Gotta change real quick.”

Castiel nodded and Dean took the bathroom to change first.  He returned a few moments later, wearing a plain black suit, with a black tie and white shirt underneath.  Sam ducked into the bathroom while Dean returned to his duffle, shoving his older clothes inside.  Sparing Castiel a glance, he noted that he was wearing the charcoal slacks and a light gray button up.  The top button was still undone and Dean tried to ignore it, “Where’s your tie?”

A beat passed before Castiel responded, “In my duffle bag.”

Dean moved towards the third duffle and pulled out the blue tie that the angel had been wearing when they first met.  It wasn’t too dirty, not noticeable anyway.  They did need to hit a laundry mat soon.  “Put this on,” he held out the article of clothing.

“I don’t know how,” Castiel answered as he looked at the tie in confusion.  When he had taken the material from the mannequin, it had been tied already and loose enough to slip around his neck.  But now that it was unraveled, the angel didn’t know where to begin.

Dean sighed and stepped forward, intending to fix the tie.  But when the angel took a cautious step back, he frowned, “Dude, stay still.”

“But Dean, personal space,” Castiel intoned, eyes trained on the hunter.  He didn’t want to break the rule and offend the hunter. 

He couldn’t help it.  Hearing his own words shot back at him in that gravelly voice, sounding almost vulnerable, Dean barked out a laugh.  He was hunched forward, clutching his stomach and wiping at his eyes when Castiel said, “I don’t understand.”

“Hey,” Dean said once he could catch his breath.  “S’okay.  Personal space, that’s good.  But there’re exceptions, like this.  You need to learn how to tie a tie.”

 And that was how Sam found them when he exited the bathroom.  Dean was standing mere inches from Castiel, straitening his tie.  They looked almost like lovers and Sam found it increasingly difficult not to annoy his big brother.  When they still hadn’t noticed him, the temptation won out, “Get a room, you guys.”

The reaction was instantaneous.  Dean bolted back like he had been struck by lightning, turning a heated glare towards his little brother.  Castiel merely watched in confusion.  “But we have a room.”

Dean’s face went red and he sputtered, “Just ignore him, Cas.  Let’s go.”  He tugged the angel out the hotel door, grabbing his keys on the way.

“But Dean, I need a ride—” And the door slammed in Sam’s face.  “Real mature,” he muttered with an angry frown.  With a sigh, he grabbed his coat and left the hotel.

“You can sit up front, Cas,” Dean commented as he swung the driver’s side door open.  He watched the angel with an amused expression.  Guess it was just habit for the guy to take the back seat, but Sam was walking—the family lived close to their hotel and the kid deserved to walk in the cold.  He watched as Castiel nodded stiffly and walked to the other side, taking the shotgun seat.

It was different, sitting up front.  Castiel had a clearer view of his surroundings than in the back and he could also see Dean more easily.  He found he liked that and his heart gave a flutter at being closer to the hunter, though he was unsure why.

Dean drove a few blocks before he realized that Castiel has never been on a case before.  “So here’s the thing.  Most people don’t know about supernatural creatures, and even less know about hunters,” he started.  Glancing over to the angel, he noticed the intense stare and turned his gaze back to the road immediately.  “Getting information’s pretty damn hard sometimes and we gotta do what we can to get it.  Like now, we’re pretending to be government officials.”

“You and Sam have been doing this for a long time,” Castiel noted as he gazed at the Winchester.

“Yeah, yeah we have.”  There was a distant look in Dean’s eyes as he gazed at the red stoplight.  When it turned green, he pulled forward slowly, much more slower than his baby was used to.  He was so lost in his memories that he hadn’t realized they had reached the county morgue and had to backtrack in order to park.

He shut the engine off after putting the car in neutral, but didn’t step out.  Castiel glanced at him curiously, unsure of what their next move was. 

“I was four, when it happened,” he said.  It didn’t feel strange, telling Castiel.  Besides, most hunters knew their father and how he’d gotten into the lifestyle.  “Azazel killed our mom and ever since then, Dad’s been hunting.  When me and Sammy were little, we’d stay with Bobby or Pastor Jim while he traveled everywhere, hunting down that bastard and others like him.  But as soon as I was old enough, Dad let me help out on hunts.”

Castiel listened to Dean speak.  His voice was a low rumble, soothing like the engine of the Impala.  He found he liked it, but there was a strange lilt to his voice when he spoke of his mother.  Castiel thought of Gabriel then, how much he missed his brother.  But he could not imagine what it would be like to really lose his big brother.  And Dean had lost so much, it seemed like.  But he still continued saving people from evil creatures and the angel was beginning to see why Dean’s soul was so bright.

“Cas?” Dean said almost hesitantly, breaking the silence.  Castiel focused his attention on the hunter and they locked eyes.  “Don’t mention this to Sam, but what do you know about demons?  I mean, vampires and werewolves are created when somebody gets bitten, and ghosts are pretty obvious.”

He was rambling at that point, not really sure what he was asking.  But Castiel seemed to understand regardless.  “They are born of humans that sin, Dean.  Souls so twisted and corrupt, that have no regrets, fester until they eventually become the darkness.”

Dean shook his head and let out a weak laugh.  “I must have one helluva messed up soul.”  To think that demons came from humans?  The thought sickened him, even if they were from evil humans.

Castiel caught Dean’s gaze, eyes blazing.  How could this man think that?  “You are wrong, Dean.  You have a very bright soul.”

He doubted that, after everything he’s done; the lusting and lying and anger.  “Well, I’ve still got a spot reserved in hell, no matter how bright my soul is.”  With that, he climbed out of the Impala, dropping the subject.  They had a case to work and he did not want to think about hell right now.

Before walking inside the building, Dean pulled out the CDC badges and handed one to Castiel.  It was one of Sam’s older ones, when he had shorter hair.  The picture was kind of grainy, but no one would be looking that closely.  “Now, when they ask to see ID, just show them this.  And let me do the talking.”

Castiel said nothing and followed Dean inside.  It unnerved him that the man thought so little of himself.  He wanted to do something about the man’s demon deal, but as a human he was completely powerless in that regard.  Maybe after he found Gabriel, he could do something for the man. 

He was snapped from his musings when an older man introduced himself as Steve the Coroner. 

“What does the CDC have to do with this?” Steve asked defensively, eyes shifting from Castiel to Dean.

“We’re just checking every angle.  Now, where’s the body?” Dean said smoothly and Steve sighed before leading them to a back room.

“Couldn’t find anything wrong.  The guy was healthy as an ox.  The only thing I noticed in the blood work was that there were high levels of epinephrine and serotonin,” Steve said as he slid out the drawer with the most recent victim.

Dean thanked the man and he left, leaving the two “CDC” agents to look over the body.  Examining the body, he could find absolutely nothing supernatural about it.  “What the hell?” He said softly.

“I believe it could be the Nightmare,” Castiel suggested after a moment.

Dean regarded the angel.  “What, like he had a bad dream that scared him to death?”  The idea sounded crazy, even to him.  And he’d seen some crazy shit.  Just look at the guy in front of him—he was an angel, for crying out loud!

Castiel stepped around to the other side of the body, looking it over thoughtfully.  “Not a nightmare, _the_ Nightmare.  It’s a demon that feeds on adrenaline and fear.  It’s a rather greedy demon as well.”

“Huh,” Dean crossed his arms.  “So why haven’t there been more sightings?”

“Once the Nightmare has trapped its target, it paralyses them and begins feeding on their fears.  However, many have been able to force their body to wake, which is why people have coined the term ‘sleep paralysis’.”

“Well, let’s meet up with Sam.  See if he found anything yet.”

Later, they met back at the hotel to compile information.  Sam hadn’t gotten much from the family, just that the victim was generally a good person.  “He was a volunteer at the fire station,” Sam said, looking over his notes. “But I did find traces of sulfur in his room.”

“Well, we’ve got some kinda Freddy Krueger shit goin’ on,” Dean responded as he sat down at the table and unfolding a map.

Sam sent him a surprised look.  “How do you figure?”

The older Winchester nodded towards Castiel, who was standing stiffly, staring out the window.  “Cas says it’s the Nightmare.  Kills people in their sleep and feeds off their fears.”

“Huh.  Must’ve escaped when the Gate opened,” Sam mused before grabbing his laptop and sitting across from Dean.  He pulled up the weather for the area.  “So how do we kill it?”

“It is a demon,” Castiel said, shifting to look at the brothers.  “I would assume that the Colt will be sufficient.”

“Great.”  Dean marked each place on the map with X’s where the demon had been.  “It’s definitely travelling, but I can’t make out a pattern.  Just that it’s going south.” 

He rubbed a hand over his face in agitation.  For the last hour, he had been marking every location where lightning storms had occurred in the last few months.  Each of the X’s coincided with the storms, but there were a few more that were unaccounted for.  Dean stood, heading to the bathroom.  If he splashed some water on his face, maybe that would wake him up a bit.

Castiel had fallen asleep on the couch, lying at an awkward angle.  His neck was going to be stiff when he woke, Dean realized.  Sparing a look to his brother, he noted that Sam was fully invested in the laptop screen.  He grabbed a pillow from his bed and carefully placed it under the angel’s neck.  At least he wouldn’t have a kink in his neck in the morning.

Satisfied, Dean moved into the bathroom and turned the tap on.  The cold water did little to refresh him.  Leaning against the sink and water dripping down his face, he stared into the mirror.  He still felt tired, could see faint circles under his eyes.  It was late and they still hadn’t figured out where the Nightmare was going to be next.

“Dean,” he heard his brother call from the other room.  He wiped his face off with a towel before leaving the bathroom.  He found Sam and Castiel both awake, standing side by side with angry looks on their faces.

“What’s up?” Dean asked carefully, looking between the two men.

“It’s your fault,” Sam said, voice dark and angry.  “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be stuck trying to save you.”

“The hell’re you on about?” Dean narrowed his eyes and took a step forward.  His fists were clenched at his side and he could feel his anger bubbling up.

But before Sam could continue, Castiel spoke.  “Your soul is damned, Dean,” the gravelly voice was like a slap in the face and Dean stared at the angel in shock.  “It is impossible for an angel to love something so dark.”  Each word that fell from the man’s lips were like a gunshot and Dean had to fight not to visibly recoil.  But the angel didn’t stop there.  “You’re going to hell, Dean.”

“No,” Dean wanted him to stop talking because he knew what was going to happen to him.  He knew he was going to hell but the truth still hurt like a bitch.

Sam echoed, “You’re going to hell and no one can save you.  You’ll turn into a demon, just like the one we’re hunting.  I’ll hunt you down and I’ll kill you.  And you know what?”

“Shut up, Sam,” Dean ground out through clenched teeth.  He was visibly shaking from the anger, fighting to hold himself back.

Sam sent him a smirk, eyes dark as he said, “I’ll enjoy it.  Because I’ll finally be rid of you.”

“Shut up!” Dean shouted and his body jerked awake.  Wild eyed and panting, he glanced around the room.  Sam was sitting across from him, laptop still open and the dim light casting shadows across his face.  And he could even see the worry there.

“Dean, what’s wrong?”

Dean had to take a few deep breaths and he couldn’t look his brother in the eyes just yet.  Instead, he spotted Castiel, sleeping on the bed.  Shit, that had been a vivid ass dream.  “I’m fine, just a crazy dream.”

Brows furrowed deeply on Sam’s face as he said, “You sure it wasn’t—”

“I’m fine.  Besides, you’ve been awake this whole time.  Didn’t see any demons, right?”

Reluctantly, Sam let the subject drop.  He turned his gaze back to the computer screen, eyes beginning to burn in tiredness.  He heard his brother get up and head towards the bathroom, shutting the door gently behind him.  He shut the laptop in frustration.  There were no new signs of the Nightmare and they had no leads as to where it would attack next.  He may as well get some sleep.

Ruby stormed angrily into warehouse, fingers brushing gently across the blade that was tucked into her belt.  The warehouse was empty and dark and she could sense no one else there.  She stopped once she reached the center of the room, inspecting the area critically in case she needed to make a quick escape.

She still couldn’t believe it was possible.  After she had left Sam in the mall, she had tailed him from a safe distance.  Ruby knew he was hiding something and she would be damned—again—if she didn’t figure out what the hell was going on.

For hours she stood across the parking lot, waiting for the Winchesters to leave the shitty motel they were currently staying in.  But she kept vigilant and come morning, she was finally rewarded.  Because there was a third man with the Winchesters and she recognized the disgusting scent immediately.

A fucking angel.

She couldn’t believe that Dean had managed to find an angel.  Damned things hadn’t walked the Earth in thousands of years and Dean got lucky enough to find one.  And he only had a few months left before he would be hers.

She resisted the urge to just attack and kill the angel.  He was fallen, could tell that the thing was human and weak.  And she had been waiting centuries for this moment, for Dean’s final death because then she would get her revenge.  Her fists tightened and she pursed her lips into a thin line. 

The fucking angel could ruin everything.  She had to talk to Lilith, find out what she needed to do.  Because in all their plans, never once did an angel cross their minds.  Cursing, she had left her hiding spot.

And now Ruby was waiting in a warehouse that was in the middle of Bumfuck, America.

The lights flickered and she glanced up, noting showers of sparks sent from the ceiling.  Slowly, she turned around to face the entrance while placing a hand on the blade.  What greeted her was a little girl with curly brown hair and wide, brown eyes.  But those eyes turned white and Ruby’s hand fell from the blade.

“Lilith,” she greeted.

The white in the girl’s eyes returned to their natural brown and she approached the blonde.  “Ruby, what is the meaning of this?”  The demanding tone coming from the small child was strange, but Ruby thought nothing of it.  “You know that this could ruin the plan.”

“I have news,” Ruby started.  “There is an angel with the Winchesters.”

Lilith pressed her lips together.  “Well then, _Rossa_ ,” the little girl spat out the name and Ruby flinched.  It had been centuries since she had been called that.  “Take care of it.  But don’t alert the Winchesters.  We need Dean in order for the plan to work and you need to keep Sam happy.”

“Of course,” Ruby said and blinked.  When she opened her eyes, Lilith was gone.  She leered, eyes turning black for a moment.  She would more than happily accept the new mission.


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning, the Winchesters and Castiel left their hotel.  Sam had managed to pinpoint the next likely location, via the lightning storms brewing about an hour south from their current location.  It was their best, and only, lead for finding the Nightmare and they wanted to catch the thing before it killed again.

“Hey, check this out,” Sam said as he looked through the articles on past victims he had printed out from the library yesterday.  “Know how the last victim was a volunteer firefighter?  Well, Terrance Cole had a hobby for skydiving.  Just finished his hundredth drop before he died, according to this.”

He held up the sheet of paper and showed Dean, who took a quick glance.  Sure enough, there was a front page article from the local newspaper about the guy.   Dean held back his shudder.  Couldn’t stand to be in a plane, let alone jump from one.  Dude had to be crazy as fuck. “The guy was an adrenaline junkie,” Dean mused as he turned his gaze towards the road.

Sam grinned widely, “Exactly.  And the first guy, he led river rafting guides in the summer.”  He shifted through the papers he had on the first victim before finding the one he was looking for.  It was a flyer for a class on river rafting.

“So, all the vics are men that have a thing for adrenaline,” Dean summed up.

“I believe it’s more than that,” Castiel said, leaning forward from the back seat.  “These men risked their lives by facing things that most people fear.”

“They’re fearless,” Sam agreed.  It seemed they had finally figured out a pattern.

When they reached town, it was nearing lunchtime, so they stopped at the first diner they found.  Dean headed inside after making sure the car was locked up tight.  He noticed a sign that read ‘Seat Yourself’ so he headed towards the back, finding an empty booth in the corner.  Castiel was following closely, like he thought he would lose Dean in the tiny diner.  The hunter held back the grin.

They took opposite seats while waiting for Sam, doing who knew what.  Glancing at Castiel, Dean paused.  The guy looked anxious, eyes darting about the small diner warily.  “Cas, you okay?”

He started to say something, opened his mouth then closed it quickly once the waitress approached.  Dean would have laughed at the almost-glare he sent the waitress, but he was too curious as to what was wrong with the angel.  “Three waters,” Dean said quickly and the waitress sent him a flirty smile before walking away to get the drinks.

Sam joined them then, sliding into the seat next to Castiel, a newspaper in hand.  He noticed the awkward silence and his gaze darted from his brother to Castiel and back again.  “What—”

Before he could even finish his question, Castiel said, “There is evil here.”  His voice was solemn and his eyes continued to flick over the other patrons.  Once satisfied, he focused his blue eyes on Dean, who was eyeing him with raised brows.  “I can’t pinpoint it, but the Nightmare is here.  Somewhere,” his voice trailed off.

“Let me get this straight,” Dean started off, leaning over the table a bit.  “You can sense a demon, but you can’t sense vamps?”

The shame on Castiel’s face then had Dean’s gut churning in sudden guilt.  But it wasn’t like he could take back the words.  Instead, he waited for the angel to speak.  He wouldn’t even look up, just stared down at the silverware.  “I was not accustomed to this body,” Castiel said stiffly after a moment.  “However, I am proficient to combat evil now that I am familiar with it.”

“Sure thing, Rambo.  Baby steps, okay?”  At the confused look he received, Dean ran a hand across his face and sighed.  He was about to explain but their waitress returned with their drinks. 

Dean found it nearly impossible to imagine Castiel fighting.  First time they met, he was cornered by vampires.  Then he got nabbed by one.  Not to mention the guy was scrawny-looking and awkward even just sitting in a booth.  How the hell was he supposed to ‘combat evil’ like that?  The thought was crazy!

He focused on his burger, finding it not the best he’s eaten, but not too bad.  Skipping dessert, they got a hotel and locked themselves in.  Sam was pouring over his laptop trying to find anyone that matched the victims’ pattern while Dean was cleaning his weapons.  Couldn’t be too careful.  A dirty gun was more likely to backfire than a clean one.

He was just finishing up his last knife when Sam leaned back in the chair and groaned.  “No one matches the description,” he started as he crossed his arms.  “But there’s lightning storms popping up everywhere.”

Castiel had been sitting on the sofa, watching the news since there was nothing else on, according to Dean.  He stood and walked towards the window, peeking out.  He let the curtain drop and faced the brothers, “It’s here for certain.  It’s likely searching for a new target.”

Dean glanced at the clock, noting it was going on six.  He sighed and began packing away his weapons.  “That case, I’m hitting the bar.  Talk to the locals.”  He could really use a drink or several.  Hell, it had been a few days since he even had a beer.  And after everything that had happened, it would certainly help him lighten up for a bit.

Not to mention he needed to let loose some steam.  Being around Castiel had him on edge and couldn’t act on his urges.

The angel looked to Sam for clarification since Dean had his back turned.  Sam pressed his lips together, brows furrowing in thought.  He knew what his brother was going to do: drink until he was almost drunk and flirt with some random woman, likely going back to her place.  But that was the last thing Dean needed.

A thought forming, he told Castiel, “It’s a place for socializing.  Go with him, maybe you can find someone that could be a target.”  If the angel went with Dean, then maybe he’d come back at a decent hour.

The glare Dean sent his brother was icy but the younger Winchester ignored it.  Castiel watched the exchange in confusion.  The brothers were always giving each other strange looks, ones that he would have thought implied they hated each other.  But having spent time with them, he knew they cared about each other.

Humans were strange creatures.

It wasn’t the first time he thought that particular thought that night.  As he sat on a barstool, which was rather uncomfortable, he watched Dean hit on a woman sitting next to him.  She smiled and batted her eyes, drinking slowly from the strangely shaped glass filled with some brightly colored liquid.  Dean continued to smile and talk softly, the woman his sole attention.

Castiel didn’t know why he felt irritated with the woman.  But the way she kept eyeing Dean, like he was a piece of meat, angered him for some reason.  And Dean was completely ignoring him.  He thought that they were supposed to be looking for a possible target, not, not _flirting_ with some woman Dean didn’t even know. 

Castiel stood, wanting to return to the motel before his anger rose any further.  It wasn’t too far and he had watched which way Dean had taken.

Outside, the cool air hit him and his breath came out in puffs of steam.  He immediately felt better, the night air calming his frayed nerves.  He rubbed his hands together, an action he had seen both Dean and Sam do in order to warm the fingers.  It worked, if only momentarily.

If he remembered correctly, he had to follow this street a few blocks and then take a right, which would then lead straight to the motel.  He paused in his steps, feel a strange chill down his spine, and it wasn’t from the cold.  Glancing around, he saw nothing, but could still sense that evil he had felt when in the diner earlier. 

Castiel continued his steps, suddenly very cautious of his surroundings.  But when he reached the motel not too long later, he let out a sigh of relief. 

“Hey Cas, where’s Dean?” Sam asked once the door was shut.  He was fiddling around on his computer, nothing else to do since there was nothing but porn on the television and despite what his brother thought, he did _not_ watch porn.  It was derogative. 

The angel felt a shiver of fear spread through him.  How could he have left Dean alone?  He had been so angry that he hadn’t done his job properly, and what if that cost Dean his life?

Sam cast a concerned gaze towards the angel, whose blue eyes were wide with fear.  Sam stood, approaching the shorter man.  “Cas, what’s wrong?”

But before he could respond, the hotel door opened, Dean stepping inside with a sour look on his face.  His voice had an angry tone to it as he said, “What the hell, Cas?”

Castiel forgot his anger at the hunter as relief poured through him.  Dean was alive and uninjured.  “I apologize, Dean,” he said quickly, before the hunter could say anything else.  “I failed to do my job by leaving you alone, even though I was aware of the evil in this town.”

“What?” Dean gaped.  Then he remembered the life-debt thing and how the angel thought he was supposed to protect him.  “Dude, I can handle a demon, no big deal.  But why’d you ditch me?”  At the blank look he received, Dean corrected, “Why’d you leave?”

Castiel felt his face heat.  He hadn’t thought Dean noticed him leaving.  And he had no way to explain the strange and sudden anger he had felt.  “I… I did not care for the environment.  It was too loud,” he said which was mostly true.  That woman had been rather loud with her flirtations.

Dean was surprised to see the angel’s face turn red.  It was almost endearing, especially since it was difficult to get any emotions out of the guy.  But he wondered why the guy was suddenly embarrassed.  Did he feel bad for ditching him?  He shrugged, “No big deal.  Bars aren’t for everyone.”

Sam watched the exchange, a thoughtful look on his face.  His brother wasn’t as drunk as he expected and he hadn’t gone home with some woman.  The younger Winchester could only guess at what had gone down, but the fact that Dean came back so soon surprised him.  “Did you find anything?” He asked as he shut his laptop, though he knew the answer already.

“Nada,” Dean said.  “I’m taking the shower.  You need the toilet?”  When he got no response, he shrugged and reached for his duffle.  Digging out a pair of sweats and a shirt, he headed towards the bathroom.

The door shut firmly behind the hunter and Castiel moved towards the couch, sitting carefully.  He felt tired, ready to go to bed.  It was strange but having spent most of the day in the car left him feeling lethargic. 

“I’m gonna grab a soda from the vending machine,” Sam said as he stood, pulling out a few bills from his wallet.  “You want anything?”  The angel shook his head and watched as he nodded before leaving the motel. 

Turning the shower nozzle to hot, Dean shed his clothes and stepped under the spray.  “So much for getting any action tonight…” he mumbled as he shampooed his hair before grabbing the bar of soap.  He’d been so caught up with the hot brunette at the bar, that he hadn’t seen Castiel leave.

He hadn’t expected to feel pissed off that Castiel left, especially since his rational mind told him the angel was out of his element.  But the sting hit him once he realized the guy wasn’t sitting next to him anymore.  Grumbling out an apology to the brunette, he hightailed it out of there, searching for Castiel along the streets.

When he didn’t spot the familiar figure on the way back to the hotel, panic gnawed at him.  Anything could’ve happened to him.  Could’ve gotten lost, mugged by some punk, or even attacked by the damned Nightmare they were searching for.  Before he went on full-panic, he checked the hotel room, relieved to find the angel inside.

Then the anger returned, but seeing how guilty and apologetic Castiel was dimmed the irritation.  And seeing the angel’s face flushed in embarrassment had him perking up in interest.

His dick was already heavy from the hot shower, and thinking of Castiel didn’t help anything.  With a sigh, he brought his hand to his dick, stroking lazily.  If he wasn’t getting any action tonight, he might as well spend some time with his right hand.

The fact that his usual fantasy of a pair of busty blondes had changed to a certain blue-eyed angel didn’t make a difference until he realized he’d just cum harder than he’d ever had masturbating to any other fantasy.  Dean closed his eyes, arm bracing himself against the shower wall, as he came down from his high.

Shit, he had it bad.  And he’d only known the guy a couple days!

Drying off, he decided to do what he did best, apart from killing evil monsters.  He shoved the thought to the back of his mind.

“Nothin’ like a hot shower,” he grinned as he exited the bathroom several minutes later.  He began shoving his dirty clothes in the bag.  “Gonna have to hit the laundry mat before too long.”

“You better not have taken all the hot water,” Sam scolded then tossed a soda to his brother. 

“Yeah, whatever bitch.  I’m gonna salt the door and windows,” he commented as he grabbed his car keys.  The salt was still in the trunk of the Impala.  “Can’t be too safe.”

Sam hummed as he headed toward the bathroom.

It didn’t take long to salt every entrance into the room.  There was only one door and two windows, all along the same wall.  With that task done, he grabbed a spare blanket and tossed it over Castiel.  Dude was shivering and hadn’t even grabbed anything before he conked out.  For a second, he watched the angel sleep.  Castiel curled into the blanket, seeking its warmth before the trembling stopped.  Satisfied, Dean sprawled out on his own bed and was out before Sam even finished his shower.

He found himself wandering the hallway of an old building, trying to find Sam.  They were on a hunt, but Sam had gone in to scope the building and had been taking too long for Dean’s liking.  Gun in hand, he pushed open one of the doors.  The room was empty.  Turning away, he continued forward.  “Sam!” He called out, eyes darting around the room cautiously.

A board creaked and he spun on his heel, gun aimed and ready to fire.  But there was nothing.  Letting out a curse, he turned around to continue on.  But what he found stopped him dead in his tracks.  Standing in front of him was a face he’d never thought he’d see again.

“Rossa,” he gasped. 

She was as beautiful as he remembered, with long, red hair and pale skin and blue eyes.  But those blue eyes were wrong, not the right shade.  He gave himself a mental shake, realizing that he was comparing her to _his_ eyes.

She smiled, revealing white teeth.  “Hello, Dean.  Or should I call you Max?” As she spoke, she stepped closer to Dean, confident in herself as she gazed up at the hunter.

Dean brought his gun up, finger not quite touching the trigger just yet, and she stopped in her tracks.  She had died, quite literally hundreds of years ago.  “I’m dreaming,” he growled, suddenly realizing.

“Are you?”

He could hear the amusement in her voice and that grated his nerves.  She was the one that put him in this position.  She’d been a damned witch and cursed him and Sam.  With a hard look in his eyes, he pulled the trigger.  Shock etched her face before she flickered away like a ghost.

“Now, why’d you have to go and do that?” another female said, from behind him.  Dean whipped around and found a woman he vaguely recognized.

“You’re the chick from the bar,” he mused, not lowering his gun. 

“Of course!” she fist pumped in her excitement.  “But care to hazard a guess as to who I really am?”

He didn’t even have to think about it.  The words left his lips before he realized it, “The Nightmare.”

“Good job, you’re not as dumb as they say you are.”

“Lady, I don’t know if I should be insulted or not,” Dean replied smoothly as he cocked his gun.  “Now, what the hell is goin’ on?  You trying to feed on my fears?  Cause I gotta tell you, I won’t go down easy.”

Her smile stretched wider as she approached Dean, a seductive sway to her hips.  “Sorry to disappoint you, Dean.  But the trap isn’t for you.  I’ve got orders and the higher ups want your angel.”

Dean frowned, not liking where this was going. “What’s he got to do with anything?  The dude’s harmless.”

The Nightmare stopped right in front of him, the barrel of the gun just grazing her chest, over her heart.  She eyed it with curiosity then turned her eyes to Dean.  “What’s stopping you, Dean?”

Dean sent her an angry glared and dragged his finger over the trigger.  But before he could pull it, the gun vanished.  The Nightmare cackled and stepped away.  “You can’t hurt me here, Dean.  But you’re wrong.”  She stopped just a few yards away with her back to Dean.  “He can ruin everything.  Which is why they want me to take care of him.  Oh,” her voice softened and she stared upwards.  “I’ve always wanted to break an angel.  Can you imagine?  God’s soldier, emotionless and obedient.  But I bet I can make him scream.”

Dean lunged for her, seeing red.  But he woke with a start before he reached her.  Panting hard, he found he couldn’t move his limbs.  He tried but no matter how much he struggled, it was as though there were invisible restraints tying him to the bed.  He was able to turn his head and found Sam in the bed next to him.

“Dean, the Nightmare,” Sam said, grunting as he fought to move.  But he was bound just as Dean.  “How did she get in?  I thought you salted the doors and windows.”

“I did,” Dean nearly shouted, trying to lift his head to find Castiel.  But he could only see the back of the couch, not the angel.

“Oh Dean, Sam.  You underestimate me,” the Nightmare said from the far corner of the room.  “I’m much older than most of the demons you’ve dealt with.  I’ve a few tricks up my sleeves.”

She moved towards the couch and Dean fought to get free.  “Stay the fuck away from him!” He shouted but the Nightmare ignored him.

“Just a touch and I can see his deepest, darkest fears,” she murmured as she kneeled on the couch, hovering over Castiel.  Bringing a hand forward, she gently touched his forehead.  “Let me in, angel.”

But whatever she expected, Castiel lunging forward was not it.  Blue eyes glaring at the Nightmare, he growled, throwing her words back at her, “I believe you’ve underestimated me.”

With that, he grabbed the Nightmare by her shoulders and flipped her over the couch.  She stood quickly but Castiel was ready, on the defense.  She threw a punch and he dodged it easily, countering with kick that sent her into the wall.  Before she could recover, he grabbed her by the throat, lifting her from the floor.  Her feet dangled a good foot above the ground.

“Who sent you?” He demanded in a harsh tone.

The Nightmare laughed weakly, clutching his arms and trying to break free, “And why should I tell you?”

“I may not be able to smite you, but I can still send you back to Hell.”

The threat had chills going down Dean’s spine.  Seeing Castiel fight the demon so effortlessly made him uneasy.  Guy was pretty badass and it looked like he could handle himself, without Dean or Sam backing him up.  The sinking feeling that hit him was strong after he realized that Castiel didn’t need their help.

“Boy, you think that scares me?  I feed off fears!” She shouted and managed to bring her foot up enough to land a solid kick to the back of his knee.  He grunted in pain, falling to the floor, but recovered quickly, grabbing her arm and swinging her hard to the floor, face down.  He twisted her arm behind her back, holding her pinned beneath him.

“Tell me who sent you.  I will not ask again,” the fallen angel almost snarled the words.  When it was clear that the Nightmare would not speak, he began reciting an Enochian exorcism.  His words were short and clipped and in a matter of seconds, fire erupted around them.  She screamed as she sunk into the floor, the flames engulfing her before disappearing.

Dean felt the restraints the Nightmare had on them disappear and he stood quickly, approaching Castiel.  “The hell was that?” He asked in disbelief.  If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he’d never believe that this guy could fight the way he had.  Not to mention the crazy exorcism he just did.

Castiel stood and faced Dean, a serious look in his eyes.  “I told you, Dean.  I was created to protect Heaven.”


	8. Chapter 8

Dean slammed his car door shut angrily, then instantly regretted it.  In a soothing tone, he apologized to his baby.  It wasn’t her fault the weather was so crappy.  As soon as they’d gotten to Bobby’s a couple days ago, it started to snow.  It hadn’t stuck at first, but now it was beginning to cover the ground.  At this rate, if they didn’t leave soon, they’d be snowed in with the old man.

Not that he minded.  He could use a break.  It seemed like the last couple weeks had been nothing but hunts.  Honestly, he could use a drink.  Something stronger than beer, more than likely.

He grabbed the few grocery bags from the trunk, mumbling curses as he went.  He had gotten stuck with the chore.  Sammy always won rock, paper, scissors—he should know better.  Stomping his way to the front porch, Dean kicked off the snow that stuck to his boots and the bottom of his jeans.  Once he was satisfied, he entered the house.  The house was a mess, as per usual.  The living room was scattered with books and maps, even a few takeout boxes.

The bags were set on the kitchen counter, which, if possible, was messier than the living room.  Dean didn’t care.  It was warm and he was just now starting to feel it through his clothes.  “Bobby,” he called while unpacking the bags.  Footsteps reached his ears but he didn’t turn around.  “Where is everybody?”

“Bobby is on the phone,” Castiel said and Dean tensed.  He continued putting the few groceries away while the angel continued.  “And Sam is outside, getting wood for a fire.”

Since the whole Nightmare thing, Dean had avoided the angel as much as he could.  It was surprisingly easy considering they were travelling together.  He just kept himself busy, which was another reason why he complied to go grocery shopping.  Cause any other time, he’d bitch and moan until Sam gave in, regardless of winning rock, paper, scissors.

There was something that struck him wrong, seeing Castiel fight as he had.  The guy was clearly able to protect himself, despite his first few days as a human.  And for some reason, Dean didn’t like it.  He liked the idea of being able to protect someone.  He’d spent his whole life protecting Sammy and now his brother was apparently okay with the hunting lifestyle.  Hell, the kid was more determined than Dean in their hunts lately.

And then Castiel came along, and Dean had someone to protect again.  He knew he was being stupid, but for some reason, he couldn’t get over the fact that Castiel didn’t need him.  He didn’t need him the way Dean needed him. 

That thought pissed him off.  He’d only known the guy for barely two weeks!

“Is something wrong?” Castiel ventured when he remained silent.  The hunter had been acting strange lately and he wondered if he had said something to upset Dean.

When Dean spoke, his voice sounded tight, “No, everything’s good.”  Castiel thought he might be lying, but couldn’t be sure.  Maybe he would talk to Sam.  He certainly knew Dean better and would likely be able to explain to Castiel what was wrong.

Bobby’s heavy footsteps broke the silence that followed.  He looked from Castiel to Dean, then mumbled something incoherent before helping to put away the remaining groceries.  “Finally tracked down some of that anointing oil,” he started gruffly.  “But you’re not gonna like how I found it.”

“How do you mean?” Dean paused, holding a box of macaroni and cheese.  Castiel watched the exchange curiously.  If Bobby had found the oil, why did it matter how he did so?  With the anointing oil, they would have everything required for the ritual, apart from the blood of the righteous. 

The older hunter seemed reluctant to say anything.  “Bela,” he ground out and Dean cursed, almost slamming the boxed noodles onto the counter.  Any situation with the con woman was a disaster waiting to happen.  Dean didn’t think it could get any worse.

“She’s on her way,” Bobby continued after a long moment.

Dean cursed again, this time louder.  Of course it had to get worse.  It would have been better if she just mailed the oil, but no, now they had to deal with her _in person_.

“I do not understand,” Castiel started slowly, eyebrows drawn together in obvious confusion.  “This is the second time that you’ve mentioned Bela.  Why do you not like her?”

Dean nearly laughed.  Lucky bastard hadn’t met the woman yet.  If Dean had his way, he’d rather not have the two meet.  “Dude, I _hate_ that woman.  And once you meet her, you’ll understand.”

Castiel bowed his head in thought.  He didn’t believe he had it in him to hate anyone.  He was created to fight and protect, to obey.  Hate was not a part of him.  He could barely grasp the idea of it.  Of course, he fought evil.  But that was his job and he didn’t necessarily hate demons or other supernatural creatures. 

Sam returned a few moments later, slightly out of breath.  “Wood’s all on the porch,” he said, rubbing his hands together furiously.  Dean relayed the news and Sam took it a little better than his brother had.  He still seemed upset though.

The angel was intrigued by who this Bela person was.  Both brothers, and even Bobby, were anxious about her arrival.  He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but the brunette that knocked on the door nearly fifteen minutes later was not it.  Castiel was not familiar with human ideals of beauty, but she had a nice facial structure and was slim, like the waitresses that Dean seemed to flirt with.  But that was as far as her beauty went.

On her soul, he could see darkness much stronger than the contract that held the hunter.  It nearly consumed the woman’s soul and it was desperately trying to break free; her contract was likely near its end.  His skin crawled and he didn’t want to stay in her presence for too long.  He took a step closer to Dean, not realizing he’d done so.

She smirked at Dean when she reached the kitchen, “Long time no see, Dean.”  She had a strange accent to her voice, one that reminded him of one of his brothers.

“Not long enough,” Dean grumbled, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed.  He glared at Bela, though she brushed him off.

Glancing around the kitchen, Bela’s gaze landed on Castiel.  She looked him over critically before stepping closer to him.  He wanted to back away, could feel his grace reacting to the contract.  He could even see the darkness ebbing away in his presence.  Her features softened minutely as she asked, “Who are you?”

Castiel opened his mouth, ready to speak.  But Dean cut him off, “You got the oil?”  His eyes met Dean’s and the man made a strange gesture with his hand, sliding across his throat in a rapid movement. 

When Bela noticed that Castiel was distracted, she followed his gaze.  Dean immediately stilled.  Bela sighed and turned to face him fully, hands on her hips.  “Impatient, aren’t we?  Yes, I’ve got it.  Who do you take me for?”

Dean gave her a pointed stare.  “Do you really want me to answer that?”

She shrugged.  Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a small vile, filled with a dark liquid.  Holding it up for everyone to see, she spoke, “Now, this wasn’t easy to track down.  Cost me a small fortune, I’ll have you know.”

Dean ran a hand over his face, sighing in frustration.  “And you want payment, I take it.”

A grin tugged at the woman’s lips, “I’ll settle for a trade.”

Bobby grumbled, “What did you have in mind?”  Of course the woman wanted something.  Never could do nothing outta the goodness of her heart, he thought grumpily.

Her gaze slid over to Castiel and her grin widened.  “Blue Eyes’ necklace and we’ll call it even.”

Dean looked at the angel, noticing how pissed he looked all of a sudden.  The word that slipped from his mouth was tight and angry, “No.”  Dean wondered why that necklace was so important.  To be honest, he hadn’t even noticed it until Bela pointed the thing out.  It was blue, probably some kind of sapphire, and attached to a silver chain.  Simple, but nothing spectacular. 

Except, now that he was focused on it, that sapphire was really blue.  Like as blue as Castiel’s eyes.  That was strange.

Bela’s eyes widened at the immediate rebuff.  “Do you know how much it’s worth?” 

Castiel reached for the necklace, almost defensively, and tucked it under his shirt.  “This is not something I can give away.”

“Oh?  And why is that?”

He glanced up, staring Bela directly in the eye as he answered, “This is my grace.”

Dean’s eyes widened and he looked at Sam and Bobby.  Sam looked just a shocked as he felt, and Bobby was doing a pretty damn good job of hiding it.  “What he means is,” Dean hurriedly said, “it’s a family heirloom.  A comfort thing, like a security blanket, you know?”

He didn’t mind lying to Bela, but he definitely didn’t want the woman to know what Castiel really was.  He wouldn’t put it past her to try and sell an angel on the black market, just to make a quick buck.

Bela looked between Castiel and Dean carefully.  “Well, if you’re not willing to part with the necklace, which by the way is worth at least nearly a quarter _million_ , then I’ll just sell the oil to someone else.”

She put the vile back in her purse, zipping it up and turning on her heel to leave the small house.  Sam blanched and hurried forward, “Bela, please.  We’ll owe you one.”  They couldn’t afford to lose the oil.  This was a matter of the end of the world!  And Dean was too stubborn to beg, but Sam wasn’t.  Especially if it helped them out.

Bela smiled softly, and after a moment, she agreed, “Well, since you’ve asked so nicely.”  She retrieved the vile and handed it over to Sam, who took it in a daze. 

“What, seriously?” Dean pushed himself off the counter, reaching his brother.  He took the vile and glanced it over before handing it to Castiel.

“What?  You’ve been a right ass since I got here.  Sam said please.  Besides, I’ve got to be off.  I’d rather not get stuck out here,” she explained.  And in a matter of seconds, she was out the door.  The four men stared at the closed front door in slight shock.

“What was that about then?” Sam questioned.

Dean shook his head in slight disbelief.  “Dude, it’s Bela.  Who the fuck knows?”

The younger Winchester turned to face Castiel.  “So, all we need is the blood and we’re all set?”

Castiel examined the vile carefully.  It was authentic and would work perfectly for the ritual.  He looked to Sam, nodding.  “Yes.”

“So by righteous, you mean…” Bobby asked.  He hadn’t thought much about the blood, since the other items were more difficult to track down.

“Someone who is morally good,” Castiel finished.

“Well, that strikes us out,” Dean commented as he poured himself a shot of whiskey.

“Balls.”

“Wait a minute,” Sam said, a thought occurring to him.  “Couldn’t we try a blood bank?”

“We could, but then we could end up with some pycho’s blood.  Good people aren’t the only ones who donate blood,” Bobby replied.

“Yeah, no, I know.  But if we knew whose blood to get, then there’d be no problems.”

“Except for the fact that we don’t have access—oh, I get it.” Dean smiled in understanding.  “Guess it’s time for research.  I’m gonna hit the shower first,” he said as he left the kitchen.  He was still feeling cold since the trip to the grocery store and standing around, talking with Bela, hadn’t helped.

“Hey,” Sam said in a quiet voice.  Castiel set the oil on the counter carefully before giving him his full attention.  “Christmas is in a couple days and we normally don’t celebrate.  But this year, I want to do something.”

It had been on his mind for weeks now, off and on.  In case things didn’t work out, he wanted at least one good memory of Christmas with his brother.  It was a depressing thought and he tried to push that away, instead thinking of ways to plan the holiday.

Sam could see the confused look on the angel’s face and knew he was going to have to explain himself.

“Christmas, I do not understand.  The birth of Christ was in September,” Castiel intoned.

“Um, well, it’s more than just that anymore.  It’s about spending time with the people you love or care about,” Sam explained.  “Having a good time, you know?”

“I see,” Castiel said quietly.  Of course Sam would want to spend time with his brother, especially since the hunter had so little time left.  He wasn’t sure how much, exactly.  The hunters hadn’t told him everything regarding Dean’s deal.  But he knew the time was nearing.

He wished he could help, for the umpteenth time.  Angels had the power to absolve any demon deal, a scarcely known ability even amongst demons, through their grace.  But as Castiel had no access to his own, he was unable to cleanse Dean’s soul.  And his priority was his mission, to find Gabriel.  He had to remain hidden until his brother was found.

The urge to meld with his grace was growing.  He’d only recently realized that he wanted to do so in order to help Dean.  But that would ruin his mission and the war between Heaven and Hell would ensue.  And as much as Castiel wanted to help the man, though why he was unsure, he couldn’t.  He was a soldier of God and he was made to obey, not to have emotions.

“So what’re you plannin’, boy?” Bobby asked, crossing his arms.  Sam smiled as he relayed his plan.

Breaking in to the blood bank had been surprisingly easy.  Dean would’ve thought they’d have tighter security, but he couldn’t complain.  Made his job easier.  Now, he just had to find the right blood so he could get back to Bobby’s.

It had taken a couple days for Sam to sort through the local, and eventually nearby, blood banks.  He had to hack into their security systems for the list of donors’, then searched the donors’ profiles via MySpace and Facebook, whatever the hell those were.  Even Ash would have been proud of Sam’s skills, were he still alive.  But finally Sam had found someone that even Castiel agreed was righteous.

So Dean took off to collect the blood while Sam and Castiel stayed at Bobby’s to prepare for the ritual.

Not ten minutes later, he was walking back to his car with a packet of blood.  Climbing into the Impala, he shoved the blood into a paper sack and set it in the passenger seat.  That had to have been the easiest mission since… Well, it was a pretty damn easy mission.  Couldn’t remember the last one he’d had.

The driving was the longest part of his job.  With the weather so poor and snow covering the ground, the hour drive took more than double that.  The only good thing about the weather was that the sun set ridiculously early and he didn’t have to have a late night.  He should make it back home by ten.

With any luck, they could summon Gabriel and be in bed by midnight.  But something in his gut told him it wasn’t going to be that easy.  It rarely was.  Today had been a fluke.

But if it did work out, then what would happen to Castiel?  He wondered if the angel would return to Heaven, never looking back.  Not that Dean cared.  Or rather, he pretended he didn’t care. Because it was only going to hurt in the end.  Either Castiel would leave, or Dean would.  Besides, the angel hadn’t even seemed remotely interested.  Not that Dean had tried, no.  The guy was an ex-angel!  He felt awkward for even thinking about Castiel that way, let alone the jerk-off sessions in the shower.  No way was he actually gonna act on those fantasies.

He gripped the steering wheel tightly before reaching down to blare some Metallica.  The music drowned out his thoughts and before he knew it, he was pulling his baby into the shed at Bobby’s.  Grabbing the blood, he headed towards the backdoor, noticing the lights were off.  Figured everyone was conked out, so he opened the door as quietly as he could.

Once his eyes adjusted to the dark, he navigated his way to the library, setting the blood on the desk.  Lights were flipped on then, momentarily blinding him.  A chorus of “Merry Christmas!” echoed in his ears and he blinked several times before his eyes focused. 

Bobby’s library had an honest-to-God Christmas tree strung up with brightly colored lights.  Matching lights adorned the walls and there were even stockings hanging above the fireplace mantle.  But what caught Dean’s eye were the five familiar figures standing next to the tree.

“What the hell?” He blinked, a slow grin spreading across his face as he looked at each person. 

Before Dean could question further, Jo spoke up.  “Smooth Dean,” she said with suggestive look in her eyes.  “Looking good, by the way.”

“Now I don’t want you boys foolin’ around with my daughter, ya hear?” Ellen added, and though the words were meant to scold, they were light.  Dean couldn’t fight the grin off his face as he held his hands up in defeat, trying to look innocent.  Ellen grinned and clapped him on the back, “I’m just teasing,” she said before pulling him into a quick hug. 

He looked to Sam after pulling away from the embrace, “I thought you hated Christmas?”

“I figured we could give it a try,” Sam shrugged before nudging Castiel. 

Castiel frowned then Sam sent him a look and the angel followed his gaze to the glasses he was holding.  “Oh.  Dean,” he gained the hunter’s attention and handed over the beverage.  “Eggnog.  It’s quite good.”

“Please don’t tell me you let Bobby get a hold of it,” Dean laughed before taking a drink.  He nearly choked as the liquid burned going down his throat.  Looking at his almost-father, he gasped, “Dude, how much did you put in it?”

“Not my fault you can’t hold your liquor,” Bobby mumbled goodnaturedly.

Dean smiled, shaking his head.  The others broke off into small groups, chatting away.  He watched, the smile slowly fading with an ache in his chest.  This was his last Christmas.  And even Sam was celebrating, though the kid hated the holidays.  The way they grew up, he couldn’t blame them.

But Dean could still remember Christmas before the fire.  It was hazy at best, but it was one of his best memories.  Sam hadn’t been born yet, but Dean remembered Mom telling him how he was going to be a big brother.  It was the best Christmas present he got, even with the toy cars.

He headed into the hallway, leaning against the small table there.  He brought a hand to the golden pendent around his neck.  Their last Christmas, back when Sammy was just a kid, he’d given Dean the necklace.  It was meant for Dad, but he’d given it to Dean instead.  He had tried so hard to make Christmas work for Sam, to make him believe in their father.

“Dean?”

Jo’s voice was soft and he barely heard her enter the hallway.  He turned to find her standing just a few feet away, a concerned look in her brown eyes.  “What do you want?” He asked, a hint of flirting in his voice.

She scoffed and shook her head.  The blonde moved around Dean and hopped up onto the table, swinging her legs gently.  “So who is this Castiel guy, really?” she asked.

Dean didn’t say anything for a long moment.  Just stared at the floor.  No one besides him and Sam knew anything about Dean’s curse.  And outside of them, only Bobby knew that angels were real.  Even then, none of them had seen one in full power.  He believed Castiel, how could he not at this point?  But the guy was still human, albeit with some pretty neat kung-fu moves.

“He’s a good guy.  Helping us out of a sticky situation.”

She raised her brows.  “And by sticky situation…?”

The hunter shook his head.  “Forget about it.  It’s Christmas, for Christ’s sake!  Let’s celebrate!” He headed into the kitchen to find Sam leaning against the kitchen counter, watching Bobby, Ellen, and Castiel playing poker at the table they must have moved into the room.  Jo stood next to Sam, chatting away with a smile on her face.

Dean sat down and joined them, “That is one serious poker face, Cas.”

Castiel’s brows furrowed, but said nothing.  He was only just getting the hang of this game that Ellen taught him.  It was rather complex, with different cards and groups of cards having different meanings and values.  His gaze slid to Dean’s, “I don’t know what that means.”

Dean laughed, “It means you’re opponents can’t read you.”

“Oh,” he replied, looking studiously at his cards.  He set them face down and said hesitantly, “I fold.”

Bobby leaned back in his chair, “That a question or a statement?”

In a firmer voice, “I fold.”

Dean stood then, walking over to talk to Sam.  “There’s ham in the fridge for sandwiches, if you’re hungry.”

Castiel watched the brothers talk for a moment before he was distracted.  Jo took the seat next to him, “Deal me in.”

She was an interesting character and reminded Castiel of Dean a bit.  Of course, her soul wasn’t quite as bright, but she was certainly a good person, as was her mother.  It was a strange family that Dean surrounded himself with, but it suited the hunter.

  His gaze gravitated to the hunter.  It seemed like he’d been doing that a lot lately.  But there was something about Dean that Castiel couldn’t figure out.  The strange warmth he felt in his chest whenever the hunter smiled, or the knot of worry that he felt when Dean had gone off on his own to collect the blood.  Sam had told him it was best, in order for the impromptu party to work. But he still couldn’t fight that niggling feeling.

“Well I’m out,” Bobby said a few minutes later, grumbling as he stood and joined the boys for a sandwich.

They played another round, in which Castiel won with a pair of nines.  He felt as though he was getting the hang of poker.  Just as Ellen dealt the next round, she said, “Tell me Cas, what’re you doin’ here?”  Her voice was suspicious and tight.

He knew that Sam hadn’t told the women everything, just that Castiel was helping them out with a case.  The younger Winchester had warned him that the Harvelles’ would likely try and pry information from him, but stick to the story.  Castiel couldn’t lie, so he decided to tell them the truth.  At least, partially.

“Dean saved my life,” he confessed.  “Twice.  I feel I am obligated to return the favor, so I have been helping them as much as I am able.”

The women shared a look, then Jo smiled, “Dean’s a pretty awesome guy, huh?” she said fondly.

“Yes.  I only wish,” he started but his voice trailed off in thought.  He had almost said too much.

“‘Only wish’ what, exactly?” Ellen said, eyes narrowed slightly.

Castiel faltered, trying to figure out how to phrase his words without giving away too much.  “I only wish I could be of more help,” he settled, staring at his cards.  It was a poor hand this time around.

Jo and Ellen seemed satisfied with his answer so they let the subject drop.  Not a minute later, a wide grin crossed Jo’s features as she looked from Castiel to Dean, noticing how they kept sneaking glances at one another when they thought they no one saw them.  “Listen,” she whispered, leaning forward.

“Joanna Beth, you best not be plotting something,” Ellen warned.

“I’m not!” Jo said hurriedly.  “Well, not exactly.  Cas, you got a present for Dean, right?”

He nodded.  He and Sam had gone shopping for a few things while Bobby had gotten the tree.  They had bought some eggnog and sandwich items, along with a large assortment of mismatched decorations.  But the entire experience had been disturbing.  He’d never seen so many angry people.  Sam explained that they were ‘last minute shoppers’ since it was Christmas Eve.  There hadn’t been much to choose from, but Sam told him to find something that reminded him of Dean.

So he had.  And when they got back, he wrapped it like Sam showed him.  Christmas had taken on some strange traditions, but he supposed if it made Dean and Sam happy, then he would oblige.

“Good.  Go grab it and wait over there,” she pointed to the set of double doors that he could barely see on the other side of the tree.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean noticed Castiel leave the table and head into the library.  Jo had a big grin on her face and Ellen was shaking her head.  Something was going on and Dean was going to find out.  He wandered in to the library, sending a glare to Jo who gasped and hurried away and out of sight.

Castiel was standing by the doorway that led into the hall, his back to the hunter.  “Cas?” Dean called softly and the angel turned around.

Castiel held his gift carefully.  He realized that Jo hadn’t told him how long he should wait there and he was about to go ask her, when he heard Dean call out to him. 

“What’s going on?” His tone was light, though a little concerned.  He looked over the angel, noticing that he was holding a box that look suspiciously like a present, though Dean couldn’t quite tell what it was.

Castiel answered, “Jo said I should wait here.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed in suspicion before he glanced around.  His gaze fell on the top of the door frame, noticing the small decoration there.  He grumbled, “What is her problem?” while running a hand over his face in agitation.  Jo could be pretty damn sneaky but he was not going to do anything about the situation.  He refused to, regardless of traditions or rules, and especially how much he wanted to.

The angel noticed Dean’s sudden anger, so he tried to distract him.  Holding out his hands, he said uncertainly, “I got you this.”

The agitation was gone, replaced by a soft look on the man’s face.  The package was neatly wrapped in a shiny blue paper and he briefly wondered how long it took Castiel to wrap it, or even how many tries it took.  The box was heavier than it looked, which made guessing difficult.  “What is it?”

The corners of his lips twitched in an almost-smile as Castiel replied, “I believe you are supposed to open it, Dean.”

He had spent nearly an hour trying to find something for Dean, much to Sam’s annoyance.  It was almost overwhelming, trying to narrow it down to one thing.  Especially since he had only known the man for a few weeks.  And Dean didn’t seem the type to keep ‘knick knacks,’ as Sam called them.

He watched intently as Dean peeled back the corners, slowly revealing the white box.  The paper fell to the floor and he carefully opened the lid.  A laugh escaped him as he saw the pie inside.  The scent of cinnamon apples reached his nose and he inhaled deeply.  “You are awesome!”

Out of all the things Castiel could’ve gotten him, he’d gone with pie—and it was his favorite kind to boot!  He knew Sam arranged this whole shindig, but had a feeling that he let Castiel pick out the gift on his own.  Damn, he wanted to kiss the guy, show him how much he appreciated the gift.

But Castiel was an angel, for crying out loud!  Angels didn’t do crap like that, he was pretty sure.  The whole purity and obey God thing.  Besides, why would he want someone like Dean?  His soul had to be horrible compared to Castiel.  What, with the demon contract and curse and all.  And besides, what if—that was, if angels were capable of sex—Castiel didn’t swing that way?

His gaze shifted upwards, to the mistletoe hanging just above the angel.  He could always blame it on that, if it didn’t work out.

Castiel turned to see what Dean was looking at.  Pinned to the doorframe was a small, green plant with three red berries.  He looked to Dean curiously, “What is it?”

His words made Dean’s face turn red, just the slightest bit.  The hunter fumbled over his words as he said, “It’s, ah, it’s mistletoe.”

Before Castiel could question further, Jo peeked around the corner, a devious smile on her lips.  “It’s tradition to kiss under it!” She called in a sing-song voice.  Dean sent an angry glare her way and she squeaked, hurrying from sight.

Dean realized he was gripping the pie box tightly and set it down on the desk before he ruined it.  “Just ignore her, Cas,” he said as he turned back to Castiel.

Tilting his head to the side, Castiel said, “But if it’s a tradition, we should honor it, should we not?”  He had seen the doctors on Dr. Sexy kiss countless times and he wondered what it was like.  It seemed like an awkward and uncomfortable way to express their emotions, but it must not be because they always do it.  Now that he was presented with the opportunity, he found he was rather curious.  What would kissing feel like?  What would kissing Dean feel like?

Because for some reason, he couldn’t imagine kissing anyone else.

Castiel looked so serious and determined that Dean was taken for a loop.  “You don’t, I mean, we don’t have to.  It’s just a stupid tradition.”

“But I want to,” Castiel insisted, blue eyes boring into Dean. 

Before the man could protest, Castiel drew in close, pulling Dean to him like he’d seen in the television show.  He pressed his lips to Dean’s gently, not sure what he was doing.  But it felt nice.  Dean’s lips were soft and his body was warm against his own.  It didn’t feel uncomfortable at all.

He was about to pull away when he felt Dean’s palms on his cheeks, holding him still before pulling him in deeper.  His tongue grazed Castiel’s lips and he gasped at the sensation. This was better than nice, left his lips tingling.

Dean couldn’t believe he was kissing Castiel.  Couldn’t believe that _he_ started it!  But Castiel didn’t do anything beyond pressing their lips together.  So Dean took the initiative, swiping his tongue across the man’s lips.  They were a little chapped and his stubble was a little prickly, but it was _Castiel_ and he was warm and it felt strangely right.

When he gasped, Dean dipped his tongue in the man’s mouth, tasting every inch.  Castiel responded by twining their tongues and battling for dominance.  He pinned Dean against the door frame, fists tightened in his shirt, overwhelmed with sensation and the need for more, though he wasn’t sure what more was.  But it definitely involved more of Dean.  He couldn’t get enough of the man.  If he had known that this was what kissing was like, he’d have done it sooner.  He caught Dean’s lower lip between his teeth, biting gently.  The moan that followed made his heart race and he felt hot everywhere, especially in his groin.  Dean pulled away and Castiel nearly whimpered, “Dean?”

Dean panted, trying to catch his breath.  “Never thought I’d say this but, we need to slow down.”  At the confused look, he explained, “Everyone’s in the other room.  This thing between us?  It’s private.”

“Oh.”

The sound of chatter reached his ears.  It was strange, but for a moment, it seemed like the world around them had disappeared.  But reality came back and Castiel understood what Dean meant.  Even the doctors had hidden away in closets to kiss.  Only rarely did they do so in the company of others.

Dean took a deep breath, “Right then.  Let’s go have some pie.”


	9. Chapter 9

Consciousness returned to him in bits and pieces.  Dean knew he was warm and comfortable, though he couldn’t remember exactly where he was.  But the normal panic that would strike him in such a situation didn’t affect him.  No, he felt relaxed and content.  Fully rested, even.

He was reluctant to open his eyes, trying to hold on to the sleep and maybe even catch a few more hours’ worth.  Sleep was hard to come by for a hunter, especially one that left him feeling the way he did now.

Slowly stretching his legs out, a grumbled complaint reached his ears.  Instantly, Dean opened his eyes at the same time he realized he was snuggled next to a warm _body,_ not a pillow.  A shock of dark hair met his wide-awake eyes and memories came flooding back.

They all had settled in the library, after Bobby and Dean rearranged it so that everyone could see the television comfortably.  Dean, Castiel, and Sam had settled on the couch, while Jo and Ellen took the chairs and Bobby took his recliner.  Bobby’s movie collection wasn’t very extensive, but they managed to find a couple Christmas themed tapes and popped them in the VCR.

Castiel had questioned the ability of a single man to take down an entire group of terrorists.  Dean told him to just watch the movie.  Everyone else laughed and returned their attention to the explosions on the screen.  In the next movie, Castiel again could not keep his curiosity quiet.  “How can parents be so careless as to forget their child?”

“It’s not real, Cas.  It’s just a movie, now shut up and watch,” Dean shook his head, though he couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he took another drink of his eggnog.

By the end of the movie, Ellen and Jo had taken the spare bedroom and Bobby had turned in for the night as well.  Sam took the cot in the panic room, leaving the two men fast asleep on the couch.

They must have shifted in the night, because Dean had his back to the couch, resting his head on his arm, with Castiel lying flush against his front.  There was no way of getting out of the situation without waking the angel up.  Dean mentally cursed, trying to ignore the fact of how comfortable he was, even on the couch.  Then there was the problem of how close they were laying.  He could feel his dick harden against the swell of Castiel’s ass and he nearly groaned.  He had no idea what he’d been thinking, kissing the angel like that.  Shouldn’t have let it happen.

Because now Dean wanted more.  And going down that road was nothing but trouble and not worth it.  Especially since Castiel would be leaving once he found his brother.  Which was, by the way, probably tonight.  They’d wait until Jo and Ellen left.  Didn’t want to drag them into more of their problems.

“Dean?” Castiel’s sleep-roughened voice pierced through his thoughts and it suddenly got hotter.  He shifted on the couch to face Dean, blue eyes boring into him.  He was oblivious to the bulge in the hunter’s pants and Dean was grateful for that.  “What’s troubling you?”

With the angel now facing him, Dean’s free hand fell to his arm, landing almost perfectly against the scar.  He was reminded of the life-debt, of how Castiel owed him.  He wondered how that was going to work when the angel left with his brother.  Probably wouldn’t even care when he got his mojo back.  Not that Dean cared.  Because he didn’t.

“Dean,” Castiel started.  Once he had the hunter’s gaze again, he continued almost hesitantly, “I want you to know that, whatever happens after today, I will help you.”

He ground his teeth, “You can’t say that, Cas.”  Didn’t know why the words escaped him; he hadn’t meant to say anything.  But what gave Castiel the right to say that?  The guy, angel or not, couldn’t help him and Dean didn’t want him to.  “I’m going to hell, no matter what you or Sam does.”

He was tired of everyone trying to help him.  Why couldn’t they understand that if they messed with his contract, Sam would die?  Dean shifted to get up, but Castiel protested, “Dean, wait.  I can—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Dean nearly growled as he stood and entered the kitchen.  He wasn’t really irritated for Castiel wanting to help.  No, he was more ticked about the fact that he was hard as a rock and couldn’t do anything about it.  And a horny Dean was no fun to be around.  He just needed some time to cool off.

Castiel stared after him for a long moment until the hunter disappeared from sight.  He could hear the front door shut and he frowned.  The roar of the Impala followed not long after.  All he had wanted to tell Dean was that he might be able to break the contract.  He had never done anything like it before, but knew that it was possible.  He’d heard of other angels doing so.  The way Dean and Sam’s souls reacted to being near his grace gave him hope.

But Dean was stubborn, wouldn’t listen.  Castiel decided that once he was an angel, he would surprise the man.  He didn’t want the hunter to go to hell and would make sure that it didn’t happen.

Jo and Ellen came down not long later and the pair began making breakfast.  Castiel joined them in the kitchen, watching.  Though he had eaten in countless diners since having met the Winchesters, he’d never seen the food being prepared.  Bobby just ordered pizza or burgers for the most part and he didn’t think that poptarts or cereal counted.

Bacon started sizzling in the frying pan, sounding loud to his ears.  The smell was delicious and he felt his stomach rumble in anticipation.

“You want toast?” Ellen asked as she flipped the bacon.

“Yes, please,” Castiel responded.

Not long later, Bobby and Sam joined them, the smell having awakened them.  They sat down at the table with Castiel and Sam looked around, hazel eyes wide awake.  “Where’s Dean?”

“He took the Impala.”  Castiel didn’t want to say that it was his fault the hunter left.  He felt bad for upsetting the man.  But all he had wanted to do was help.

Sam seemed to sense something was off.  “Don’t worry, Cas.  He’ll be back when he cools down.”

Castiel nodded, but was still uncertain.  However, Sam knew his brother best so he believed the hunter.  After breakfast, he went through the morning routine that the brothers taught him, showering and shaving before getting dressed.  He’d only managed a small nick on his jaw line.  He was getting better at the task.

Back in the kitchen, he sat with Sam while everyone else finished their own routines.  The young hunter was sipping from a coffee cup.  How he could like the bitter liquid was beyond him.  But he did have to admit that it smelled good.  “Have you ever been to Earth before now?” Sam asked as he set the mug down.

They’d talked before, but Sam had never felt comfortable asking about the angel’s history.  Mostly, they’d talk about the current case or even the possible apocalypse, though there wasn’t much they could do until they found Gabriel.  So Sam would tell Castiel about some of their past cases, like how they’d gotten a hold of a cursed rabbit’s foot or the pranks that the brother’s played on each other while taking down a Tulpa. 

However, having known the angel for a few weeks, he felt more confident in asking about Castiel.  He didn’t think he’d get smote for asking, not that Castiel could anymore, but still. 

Castiel shook his head, “No, but I have watched for a long time.”  Then he admitted with a slight smile, “It is part of the reason I agreed to undertake this mission.”

Sam raised his brows, surprised.  “Really?”  He hadn’t realized that Castiel had a choice when the task of tracking down his brother had been assigned.  He just assumed, from what little he knew, that they were given orders, no questions asked.

“I’ve watched for thousands of years and no matter what humans do, they always surprise me.  The pyramids in Egypt, the Roman Empire, all the wars.  And yet, you continue to survive and progress.  My sister shared my sentiments, although more strongly.  She Fell.”

Silence hung in the air as Castiel thought of his sister.  She would be an adult by human standards, now.  Perhaps he would try to find her, just to see if she was happy.  Of course, that would be after he found Gabriel.

“What’s it like?” Sam inquired, voice hesitant.  He didn’t want to make Castiel uncomfortable.

“It was painful, though I imagine it was worse for her,” came the response.  “I, at least, was able to keep my grace with me, as well as my memories.  Anael, she would have been reborn as an infant.”

“That necklace, you said it contains your grace?  What is that, like your soul?”

Castiel hummed.  “It is similar, yes.  Without it, we are human.  I suppose you could say it is the source of our power.  But to remove it, to Fall, is like tearing off one of your limbs.”

Sam winced at the description.  He couldn’t imagine how that felt.  Sure, he knew the pain of a bullet and the sting of a blade, but to have an arm or leg torn off?  He nearly shuddered at the thought.  In an attempt to change the subject, he asked, “You’ve seen all the wars?”

“Many of them,” Castiel nodded and remembered a particular group that stood out strongly in his mind.  “The Vikings were rather ruthless.”

Dean returned not long later, walking in on Castiel’s recount a particularly brutal battle between the Vikings and the Irish.  He listened, unnoticed, leaning against the doorframe.  It was just like Sam to be so invested in a boring conversation about history.  At least there was bloodshed, though.  Made the story a little more exciting.

However, Dean found himself paying more attention to Castiel’s voice than the story.  It was soothing and he almost forgot his earlier irritation, just listening to the guy talk.  Ellen and Jo came down the stairs then, startling Dean.  “Hey,” he greeted, noticing they each had a duffle bag.  “Roads aren’t too bad,” he said and Ellen pulled him into a hug.

“I know you boys are planning something,” she whispered, eyes darting to Castiel who was talking with a very attentive Sam.  “Just, don’t do anything stupid, alright?”

“Why does everyone say that?” Dean said as he pulled away.  When Ellen gave him a stern look, he corrected, “Yes, ma’am.”

“I mean it.  And keep in touch, ya hear?”

Dean helped them carry their bags to the truck before hurriedly returning to the house, where it was warm.  Bobby, Sam, and Castiel joined him, standing in the front door.  They watched as Ellen pulled away, she and Jo waving before the truck turned down the main road. Once the truck was out of sight, Bobby stepped away, shutting the door to keep the warm air in. 

They moved into the library, where Bobby began clearing his desk, leaving the needed items in the middle.  “This everything?”

Castiel inspected the items for the umpteenth time.  “I just need something to write with, three white candles, and a wooden bowl,” he said.

Sam moved into the kitchen to find a wooden bowl while Bobby reached into the desk, searching.  He pulled out the candles and after a moment, he moved into the hallway.  They could hear his footsteps as he stomped up the stairs.

“So,” Dean said quietly.  “This is it.”

“If everything goes according to plan,” Castiel agreed.

There was a long pause in which they could hear Bobby’s walking around above them and Sam mulling about in the kitchen.  Dean opened his mouth, wanting to say something, anything, but he had no idea what.  He couldn’t ask Castiel to stay—the guy had a job to do, and Dean was not a part of it.

“Found it,” Sam exclaimed as he returned, holding up a round, wooden bowl.  He seemed oblivious to the awkward silence between his brother and the angel as he set the bowl on the desk.  Bobby returned not too long later with a piece of chalk, grumbling about needing to buy some more.

“The ritual is fairly simple in its preparation,” Castiel said as he carefully began working, using chalk to etch a symbol onto the desk.  Three white candles were placed in the middle, lit.

The hunters waited in silence as Castiel poured the anointing oil into a wooden bowl.  A few words fell from his lips, foreign to their ears.  Dean looked to Sam, a questioning look on his face.  Sam shook his head, holding his hands up to indicate he had no clue what language it was.

Reaching for the acacia, he dropped the flakes into the oil while reciting more words.  Dean knew he could listen to that voice all day, even if he had no clue what the guy was saying.  The words rolled from Castiel fluidly, lips forming the syllables and he found his eyes glued there.  Why did he suddenly have such a fixation on the guy’s mouth?  He forced himself to look away.

Castiel finished the ritual by adding the blood of the righteous.  Sparks and a puff of cloud erupted from the bowl.  “It is done,” he said, glancing around the room expectantly.

“How long’s it take?” Sam asked as he approached, looking into the bowl.  It didn’t look like much, just a mess of goo that was mostly blood.

“Normally it takes effect immediately.  But since Gabriel is in hiding, it may take longer,” Castiel answered.

“Is _that_ what he’s doing?” an amused voice caught their attention.  They all spun around searching for the source.  An older man was leaning against the kitchen table, legs crossed at the ankles.  He wore a suit like a business man and had an air of confidence as he straightened and advanced towards the group.

Tensing, Dean’s fingers grazed the Colt.  The stranger held his hand up defensively, an easy smile spread across his lips, “I’m no threat to you.  I just need to speak with Castiel.”

Dean clenched his teeth.  He didn’t like the guy.  There was something about him that set the hunter on edge.  “Yeah, well, whatever you say to him, you can say to us,” Dean growled, hand still brushing his gun and ready to fire if need be.  He wasn’t going to trust this dick unless Castiel did.  And the look on the angel’s face gave him absolutely no reason to do so.

The man looked at Castiel, brows raised.  “This is the company you surround yourself with, Castiel?” he said, a tone of disgust in his voice as he took in each man with a critical eye.

“Zachariah,” Castiel addressed in a calm tone, knowing that things could get complicated fast.  “What are you doing here?”

The man, Zachariah, moved towards the desk where the ritual had been performed.  He stared at it for a moment before swiping a finger through the chalk line.  “We’ve been keeping tabs on this particular ritual,” he said after a moment.  He sent a pointed look to Dean before continuing, “Can’t have some mudmonkey calling an archangel, can we?” He chuckled.  Gaze settling on Castiel, he smiled widely.  “But lo and behold, look what I found!  Little Castiel, the traitor.  I thought you had Fallen like Anael.”

“I chose a different method,” Castiel responded tensely.  He didn’t know how much Zachariah knew, if anything, but he wasn’t going to tell his superior anything that would compromise the mission further.  He had already seen too much and now Zachariah knew that Castiel was trying to find the supposed dead archangel.  “I wanted to experience humanity while retaining my memories.”

“See, now I know you’re not telling me the whole truth,” Zachariah pressed his lips together, bringing his hands behind his back.  He paced the room for a moment, in apparent thought.  “You’re just a grunt, someone _had_ to give you the spell.  C’mon, you can trust me.  Who put you up to this?  Was it Balthazar?  He’s always causing trouble.”

Castiel denied, “I did this on my own.”  He had made the decision to follow through with the mission, there was no lie to be found.

Frowning, Zachariah stated, “You were trying to contact Gabriel, but he’s supposed to be dead.  Raphael wants to know why, which is why I’m here.”  Castiel made a noncommittal sound and the older angel continued, a wicked grin on his face, “You’re one of Heaven’s top priorities, you know.”

He took a step towards Castiel, who took a step back.  He sneered as he said, “Turned your back on us and our Father.  You’re a traitor, Castiel.  And I’m obligated to turn you in.”

Castiel lunged to the side just as Zachariah’s fist embedded in the wall where he had been a second ago.  When the angel removed his hand, there was a hole in the wall, drywall crumbling to the floor.

“You know what, you’re a dick,” Dean interjected, having had enough.  “You’re supposed to be family, aren’t you?”  Sure, he and Sam bickered but to actually attack your brother, with that kind of strength?  That could have killed Castiel! 

Zachariah sneered in anger, “Watch your mouth, mudmonkey!” He swiped his hand in the air, sending Dean flying into the opposite wall.  The hunter slid to the floor with a pained grunt.

“Dean!” Sam shouted as he raised his gun.

“I don’t think so,” Zachariah laughed as he flicked the gun away before Sam could even put his finger on the trigger.  In his anger, he clenched his fist and both Sam and Bobby collapsed to the ground in pain.  Satisfied, he turned to Castiel and grabbed him by his collar, pinning him to the wall. “Now tell me, traitor.  Why are you trying to contact Gabriel?  Are you plotting against Heaven?”

Castiel struggled to loosen himself to no avail, “Leave them alone.”

He narrowed his eyes, “Not until you answer my questions.”

“I am not plotting against Heaven,” he ground out and brought his leg up to kick the angel away.  But Zachariah caught his ankle, holding tightly.

“Then why is Gabriel in hiding?” he demanded hotly, face turning red in anger.

“I don’t know,” Castiel confessed, still fighting to free himself.  But his brother had too strong of a hold on him and he couldn’t escape.

“Why were you trying to contact him?  Why did you Fall?”

“I told you, I Fell so I could—”

Zachariah was livid, but he sucked in a deep breath in an effort to calm down.  “Castiel, do you really want me to resort to more extreme methods?”  With that, he tightened his grip on Castiel’s ankle, feeling the bones begin to give way beneath his fingers.

“I’m telling you the truth!” Black was crowding his vision but he fought to stay awake, couldn’t give up now.  He had to protect Dean.

“Stop lying, you ungrateful sack of shit,” Zachariah flung Castiel into the far wall.  He took a step towards the Fallen, ready to move on to torture if need be.  Raphael had given him permission to use any means necessary to get the information.

“Hey, dick!” Dean shouted, distracting the angel.  He held up the Colt, aiming it on Zachariah’s forehead, glaring at the creature.

He cackled as he spotted the weapon.  “You think that little gun can hurt me?  Stupid human.”

He was about to finish off the stupid human for good, when Castiel shouted his name.  Turning, he spotted the Fallen leaning against the wall and panting heavily.  But what drew his attention was the bloody sigil on the wall next to him.  “Why, you—” He growled as he lunged forward.

Before he could reach him, Castiel had already pressed his bloody hand to the center of the sigil.  A bright light erupted from Zachariah and when it faded, he was gone.  Castiel could hear both Sam and Bobby’s relieved gasps as the angel’s hold on them released.

“What was that?” Sam asked incredulously.

“It was a banishing sigil,” Castiel panted.  He tried to stand, but found he couldn’t put any weight on his right ankle.  He slumped against the wall.  “He’ll be back, we have to work quickly.”  He motioned for a pen and some paper and Dean hurriedly collected the items from the desk drawer.

Kneeling beside him, he asked, “What do you mean?”

Castiel didn’t speak for a moment.  He took the paper and began drawing four symbols, ones that none of the hunters had ever seen before.  His hand shook as he struggled to draw, dark spots clouded his vision.  It seemed like an eternity to get the symbols drawn correctly.  Once finished, he handed the paper to Bobby, “These sigils, they’re for protection against angels.  Draw these on the north and south walls,” he pointed to the first two, then to the second pair, “and these on the east and west.”

“Alright, we can handle that,” Bobby nodded as he took the paper, examining the sigils carefully.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel looked to the older hunter, a pained look on his face.  “I hadn’t, this wasn’t supposed to happen.  I’m sorry,” his voice trailed off and black swirled in his vision.

“Cas?” Dean ventured softly.  But there was no response from Castiel, he was out cold.

“Me and Bobby can put these up,” Sam offered then motioned towards Castiel.  Dean nodded.  Satisfied, Sam and Bobby left the library to retrieve paint to put up the sigils.

Dean studied Castiel for a moment longer, wondering what his best course of action was.  His ankle had a good-sized bruise forming and was beginning to swell already.  Blood was dripping down his cheek from a small cut, but didn’t appear to be too major.  A larger gash on his arm had him worried though.  With a sigh, he gathered the man in his arms carefully, standing up.  He was too injured for over-the-shoulder, so Dean stuck with cradling him in his arms.  “Looks like you’re stuck with us a while longer,” he murmured as he made his way upstairs.

He tried to be careful, laying Castiel on the spare bed.  He felt somewhat successful when Castiel remained quiet, but even that was beginning to unnerve the hunter.  It was almost too quiet and he hurriedly grabbed the first aid kit, pulling up the man’s pant leg and carefully removing the sock.  Thankfully, he hadn’t been wearing shoes which would have made the whole situation trickier.

It was bad.  Castiel’s ankle was already swollen to twice its normal size and Dean could easily make out the finger-printed bruises.  He was pretty sure it was broken, from the strange lump jutting out.  Taking a deep breath, he moved on to the cut on his forearm.  That, he knew how to handle.  Sam was always better with broken bones.

When he finished with the cut, he turned to look helplessly at the ankle, only to widen his eyes in shock.  The swelling and bruising was still present, but the bone looked like someone had snapped it back in place.

“Fuckin’ angels,” he mumbled and grabbed some gauze.  He just finished propping up Castiel’s bandaged ankle on a few pillows when Sam walked in.  Looking from the bandage on the unconscious man’s arm to the wrapped ankle, he asked, “How’s he doing?”

“His ankle was worse, but some kinda mojo healed it,” Dean responded, slightly disbelievingly as he closed up the first aid kit.  He stood up and headed towards the door.  “That Zachariah guy, must be damn powerful.”

“Yeah.  When he did that thing with his wrist, it felt like my insides were melting.”

“And he’s not even an archangel,” Dean added, running a hand over his face.  He looked to Castiel and sighed.  “Guess we’ll just have to wait for Sleeping Beauty to wake up before we can make our next move.”

Castiel found himself sitting on a reclining chair, leaning fully back in the comfortable device.  He could see his bandaged leg propped up with a pillow, though he felt no pain.  Blinking, he looked around, not recognizing his surroundings.

He was in a sort of apartment.  There was a television in front of him, with a small kitchen that opened to his left.  On the counter, there were dozens of assorted candies and cakes that had his mouth watering.  A crinkling sound from his right caught his attention.

There was a blond man sitting on a couch, legs propped on the coffee table.  He was munching on a candy bar and had a smirk on his face.  “Gabriel,” Castiel said once he recognized his brother.  He tried to get out of the chair, but his brother stopped him.

“Ah, ah.  Don’t move,” Gabriel said.  “Damn Zachariah did a number on you.  I couldn’t heal your ankle completely, bro.  Too much damage to fix in dream land.  Woulda done it in person, but you had those apes put up wards everywhere.”

“I didn’t want Zachariah to return,” Castiel confessed.

“I understand.  That guy’s an ass, never did like him.  But what I don’t get, is why you were trying to find me.  Now they know I faked my death,” Gabriel grumbled, golden eyes flaring in anger.

Castiel refused to back down, despite his brother’s anger.  “I’m sorry, Gabriel.  But Joshua asked me to find you.  Heaven—”

“Heaven’s in turmoil without me, huh?” Gabriel grinned, anger nearly forgotten as he crossed his arms.  “Well, too damn bad.  I ain’t going back.”

“Gabriel, please,” Castiel persisted.  It had been so long since he’d seen Gabriel, the last thing he wanted was to worry about the mission.  But he was a soldier of God, he had to do his job. And he could not, _would not_ fail this mission.  There was too much at risk.

The archangel sighed, slumping in his seat under the determined gaze of his brother.  “You don’t get it, do you?  There’s something bigger going on,” he waved his arms about.

Castiel nodded in understanding, “The Plan.”  That was exactly the reason why Gabriel needed to return.  The fact that his brother knew, and still would not return, had Castiel’s gut turning.  It was an uncomfortable feeling, and to be honest, he preferred the physical pain of his wounds over this… uncertainty.

“So you know what’s going to happen?” Gabriel asked, eyebrows raised.  He hadn’t thought that his youngest brother would have heard anything about anything.  As much as he loved Castiel, the younger angel always seemed to have a stick up his ass when it came to rules, always the obedient little soldier.  And Gabriel had a thing for breaking them.

“Not exactly,” Castiel replied carefully.  “I only know that it involves freeing Lucifer.”

Gabriel pursed his lips.  “That about sums it up.  But in order for him to be freed, the seals must be broken.  There’re hundreds of them, but only sixty-six need to be broken for Lucifer to be released from his cage.”

Brows furrowed, Castiel asked, “Then what are they waiting for?”

“The first one hasn’t broken yet.  ‘It is written that the first seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds blood in hell’,” Gabriel quoted, bending his first and second fingers on each hand.  He shrugged his shoulders and snapped his fingers, a bite size candy bar appearing in his palm out of nowhere.  “Thing is,” he started as he tore into the bar.  “The righteous man escaped, back when the Devil’s Gate was opened.  Now they’ve got their money on another man.”

“Who?”

“And that’s the million dollar question!” Gabriel clapped, tossing his wrapper away.  It vanished before it hit the ground.  “Michael and Raphael know, but I’ve been gone too long.  I do have an idea, though,” he admitted with a sly grin.

If Gabriel wouldn’t return home to set order in Heaven, then Castiel would have to find another way to do so.  There was no way he could fail this mission, that he could fail his brothers and his Father.  He had to do _something_.  His stomach flipped again at the thought.  Because right now, he was only human.  How could one person stop an army of demons set on freeing their father?  Especially if Raphael was involved, like he suspected. 

A picture floated to his mind.  Dean was grinning, smile not quite reaching his eyes.  It wasn’t a true smile, one he seemed to slip on to ease the tension, usually after telling some joke that Castiel didn’t understand.  He found he liked that look.  Even more, he liked Dean’s real smile, green eyes crinkling in the corners and sometimes accompanied by a chuckle.  He’d only seen it directed at Sam, and very occasionally Bobby.  But he wanted to see it again, and knew that if the Plan continued, he’d likely never see it again.  Suddenly, he realized the hunter wouldn’t give up just because of ‘crappy odds.’ 

With that thought in mind, he felt the uncertainty fade.  If the plan to free Lucifer was stopped, then Michael and Raphael would have nothing to argue over.  To stop it, he had to prevent the first seal from breaking.  And to do that, he needed to save the Righteous Man.

“Please, Gabriel.  Who do you think it is?”

“I can’t say,” he grinned, waggling his eyebrows.  “Sorry, bro.”

Castiel wanted to scream in frustration, something he’d never felt until becoming human.  How was he supposed to do anything if no one told him anything?  He was going in circles, trying to get Gabriel to help.  “You’ve changed,” he said softly, almost sadly.  Growing up, he’d always admired Gabriel.  He was funny and compassionate, and even though Castiel was the youngest, he never scorned the fledgling, was never condescending.  Now, he could see it in those golden eyes, the anguish. 

Castiel could relate.  He did not want his brothers to fight any more than Gabriel.  However, the younger angel was determined to stop it, unlike his older brother.  He had a mission to complete and he wasn’t going to run away.

Gabriel sighed, “If you save the Righteous Man, I’ll return.”  He didn’t expect his brother to be successful, figured it a safe bargain.  Besides, the kid could be oblivious, even if the thing he was looking for was staring him in the face.  It was part of the reason he’d always felt the need to stick around the fledgling, make sure he was adjusting well.

Eyes widening in surprise, Castiel nodded.  He’d already decided to save the Righteous Man.  He hadn’t thought that Gabriel would change his mind.  But it was clear that he wasn’t going to get any more help in the new mission.   Reluctantly, Castiel asked, “May I ask a favor of you?”

Gabriel shrugged, “Depends.”

“Dean and Sam Winchester, and Bobby Singer.  They’re not safe from Zachariah or any other angels that will be tracking me.”

“Say no more,” Gabriel grinned.  He snapped his fingers and suddenly Castiel felt a rapid, burning sensation on his chest.  It was gone in an instant.  “Protection sigils.  Carved ‘em into your ribs, and the others.  No problemo!” he said and he snapped his fingers, sending Castiel into a deep sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

Castiel shifted onto his side, tired of lying on his back.  At least he was clean now.  He’d been able to stand long enough to take a shower, though it had been a quick one because his ankle had been throbbing. 

It’d been a few days since the failed summoning and he still hadn’t really talked to either Winchester or Bobby.  Mostly, it had gone by in a blur, via the pills Bobby had given him.  But now, he felt disappointed and maybe a little depressed.  He had worked so hard to find Gabriel, but his brother wanted nothing to do with their family.   Unless he could save the Righteous Man, but the task was beginning to seem nearly impossible. He still wasn’t very confident in what needed to be done—finding the Righteous Man was going to be much harder than trying to find Gabriel.  There was no ritual he could use, nothing. 

It was all beginning to seem hopeless. 

He rearranged the pillow under his ankle to make it more comfortable.  His ankle was better now that Gabriel healed most of the damage, but it was still swollen and he could barely put any pressure on it for too long.  Sam said to keep it elevated as much as possible, in order to keep the swelling down.  So far, he hadn’t noticed much difference.  But hopefully it would heal soon.

Not that he felt much pain.  No, the medicine that Bobby had given him certainly helped with that.  Apparently, he had a low pain tolerance, according to the older hunter.

A _thunk_ on the bedside table had him opening his eyes in surprise.  He hadn’t realized he shut them, but found a steaming mug sitting in front of him.  Looking up, he found Dean standing beside him.  “Don’t worry, it’s not coffee.  Hot cocoa,” he explained.

“Oh,” Castiel said as he sat up slowly, a fluttering in his chest as he realized Dean was concerned for him.  He reached for the mug.  It was a welcome warmth against his fingers and he pulled it closer.  “Thank you.”

Dean pulled out a chair and sat across from him.  “How’s the leg?”

“It’s better,” Castiel relented, taking a sip from the steaming liquid.  He still hadn’t told the hunters everything about Gabriel.  Just that the archangel dream-walked into Castiel’s mind and healed his ankle, before carving protection sigils on all their ribs.  “I… wanted to apologize.”

Dean leaned back in his chair, “Don’t worry about it, Cas.”

Castiel pressed his lips together, trying to figure out his thoughts.  “It’s just that I don’t know what to do.  And right now, I’m a liability to you.  I can’t even help you and Sam on a hunt.” He almost glared at the bandaged ankle, wishing it would heal faster.

“We’ve been taking care of ourselves for a long time,” Dean said in a soft tone.  “Not that we don’t appreciate your help or anything.  I mean, you were pretty badass with the Nightmare, and that banishing sigil?” He whistled at the memory of a determined Castiel, kicking that other angel’s ass even though he was only human.

“So, how do we find Gabriel this time?” Dean ventured.  If the other angels were monitoring the summoning ritual, they would have to find another way to locate the archangel.  But the hunter had no clue how to proceed.  And Castiel had been in and out of consciousness the last couple days.

Looking at the Fallen now, though, he realized the archangel was a sore subject.  Uncertainty flashed across those blue eyes before he turned away.

Castiel looked down at his mug.  The cocoa was delicious but suddenly he’d lost his appetite for it.  He set it on the bedside table.  “We don’t.  He’s not going to return to Heaven.”

Dean decided to let the matter drop, “Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out.  Always do.”

The smile Dean gave him caught his breath.  That he was trying to cheer Castiel made the fluttering in his chest increase in warmth, spreading through his body pleasantly.   This smile was directed at him, not Sam or Bobby.  The urge to kiss the hunter overwhelmed him, but he didn’t know the correct protocol for initiating such a thing.  So instead, he said bluntly, “Dean, I want to kiss you.”

Green eyes widened almost comically in shock and his mouth fell open, trying to speak.  That was honestly the last thing he expected Castiel to say.  And dammit, he wanted to kiss him too.  But it just seemed wrong, taking advantage of an angel, especially one that was loaded up on painkillers.  There were too many consequences.   “We can’t,” he said after a moment of gathering his thoughts.  When an almost hurt looked crossed Castiel’s face, Dean explained, “I mean, isn’t there some kind of rule against angels ah, being intimate?”

Castiel finally understood Dean’s reluctance and felt a weight lift from his shoulders.  He had thought the hunter didn’t want to kiss him.  He didn’t know why that thought bothered him, but for some reason, it had.  “There are no rules stating that angels cannot be intimate.” 

There was a silence as Dean mulled over the words.  If angels could have sex, then what was he waiting for? 

“Besides,” Castiel continued with a slight smirk on his lips as he set the mug down and leaned forward.  “Right now, I’m human.  And I want to take advantage of that.”

Who was Dean to argue that?  He grinned as he moved towards the bed, eyes never leaving Castiel.  His hand slid up the angel’s arm, stopping just under the scar uncertainly, before covering it completely.  It was a perfect fit and for some reason, the fact that his handprint was on Castiel, turned him on.

Impatient, Castiel pulled Dean down, pressing their lips together.  Now that he knew what to do, he dragged his tongue across Dean’s lower lip.  The man’s weight pressed against him, somehow making the kiss a completely different experience than his first one.  There was no hesitance when their tongues brushed each other, just passion and heat, and something else that he couldn’t find a name for.

Dean wanted this, curse be damned.  He only had a few months left, so why the hell not enjoy life, and sex, while he could? 

His finger’s brushed the hem of Castiel’s shirt, sliding under and feeling smooth skin underneath.  Dean bunched the shirt up as far as it would go without breaking the kiss.  Castiel understood and pulled away reluctantly, long enough to rid himself of the offending article.  Dean took the opportunity to remove his own shirt before pulling Castiel back to him.

Kisses down the angel’s neck had him moaning softly at the sensations.  Even without the shirt, he was feeling hot, his pulse racing.  “Dean, I feel hot,” Castiel murmured softly, unsure if something was wrong with his body. 

Dean chuckled and bit gently at the base of his neck, earning a surprised gasp.  “That’s a good thing,” he whispered, blowing on the small welt.

Castiel couldn’t reply, too focused on the hands running down his sides and the lips on his neck.  Dean was so warm, almost hot and he wanted closer, to feel skin against skin.  He wanted to kiss the man again, but he batted Castiel’s hands away.  With a frustrated groan, he managed to reverse their positions, balancing on his knees on either side of Dean’s hips.  He gave Dean a shy smile as he looked over the hunter.

Dean’s skin was darker than his own.  Not much, just a few shades tanner.  He splayed his fingers against the man’s chest to see the difference, fascinated by the golden cast to the hunter’s skin compared to his paler complexion.  But there was a small patch of lighter skin, almost like a scar, above Dean’s heart.  He tilted his head curiously, “What happened?” 

Dean realized what Castiel meant and tensed.  He hadn’t thought about the mark when he started this.  Of course the angel would be curious.  Instead, he tried to distract him by pulling him in for a kiss. 

But Castiel wouldn’t be deterred.  He pulled back with a crease between his brows.  He recognized the symbol from somewhere, though he couldn’t think completely straight.  His mind was too foggy, but he knew he had seen it somewhere.  “Dean, what is this?” he asked again, tracing his finger gently over the mark.

Dean wasn’t sure what to do.  Sure, he could shrug it off, say he didn’t know.  But Castiel would catch his lie.  He could just storm out of there, telling him to just drop it.  Somehow, that idea didn’t sit well with him.  He was tired of arguing.  With Bobby, with Sam, with Cas.  His decision made, he started, “I fucked up a long time ago.”

Castiel scooted on the bed to sit next to Dean against the headboard.  He was surprised the hunter was telling him anything.  From what he’d learned, Dean wasn’t one for sharing emotions or talking much about his past.  Especially if it was painful.  So he listened, gaze never leaving him for a second.

He listened as Dean spoke of a previous life, hundreds of years ago before the Black Death in Europe.

Dean shocked himself when the words began pouring out. He’d never told anyone, not even Sam, the full story.  And that was because Sam remembered some of what had happened, knew the basics of what was going on.  But for some reason, telling Castiel the truth was a weight off his shoulders.

“And then she cursed me,” he finished, hesitantly.  “She decided Sam should stick around, keep me company, I guess.”

“What are the terms of the curse?” Castiel asked.  He’d heard of similar curses, albeit rare, and knew that it was possible to break them.

Dean rolled his shoulders, “Dunno.”  He wasn’t going to tell him the exact details.  Didn’t want the guy to feel obligated to help him, though he knew it was a moot point.  But at least this way, Castiel wouldn’t try to do something he didn’t want to do.

Castiel hummed.  His head cleared now, he could remember why the symbol was familiar.  “The witch that cursed you, she was working for a demon known as Tamara.  Without research, I can’t tell you much more than that.”

“Don’t worry about it, Cas,” Dean said as he stood up to stretch.  “I’m going to hell in a few months, curse or no curse.”

“But Dean—”

“Hey, Dean!” Sam’s voice interrupted, followed by a loud slam of the door from somewhere downstairs.

Dean blanched as he realized both he and Castiel were still shirtless.  He hurriedly shrugged his own on and just finished as Sam walked into the bedroom.  The younger Winchester glanced from his brother to Castiel curiously.  “Am I interrupting anything?”

“No,” Dean grumbled while Castiel shook his head.

“Good.  Listen, I was doing some research and I think I found us a case.”

He sat on the bed, chest feeling tight.  He barely remembered what he and Sam were arguing about, the tightness growing.  It felt like a sleeping limb trying to wake up, blood rushing through his entire body leaving behind a strange, prickling impression.  The pins and needles sensation grew until it was sharper, “Bunch of knives inside of me,” he remembered gasping out as he gripped his stomach.

The pain intensified, sending him flat on his back and gasping for breath.  A particularly brutal wave had him coughing up blood and rolling off the bed.  His vision was blurred, could swear Sam had left him.

Left him to die alone.

His rational mind knew that Sam was trying to save him, to kill the coven.  But he couldn’t shake the fact that he was alone right now, blood dribbling down his chin and it felt like he was hacking up a lung with each cough.  The pain only grew, felt like his insides were being ripped to shreds by a dull knife.

When Ruby stormed in the door, looking like a bat of hell, he could only laugh weakly, “You wanna kill me? Get in line, bitch.”

In a blur of movement, he found himself pinned to the bed with the most disgusting liquid being forced down his throat.  It burned all the way down, more than any alcohol ever had, had him coughing again, though he barely had any energy left in him.  He ignored Ruby’s cocky complaint as he sucked in a welcome breath.  The pain finally receded and all that remained was the god-awful taste in his mouth and a lingering burning in his chest from the coughing.

“What was that stuff?  God, it was ass,” he grumbled as he sat up, staring dubiously at the demon.

She scoffed, shaking her head.  “It’s called witchcraft, short bus,” Ruby replied and left the hotel room before Dean could think of a decent comeback.

He sat there for a full minute, taking in her words.  That Ruby knew witchcraft was unsettling.  What the hell else did she know?  But he shoved the thought from his mind, needing to hurry and find Sam.  Taking on a coven of witches, plus the demon they served, was not a one-man job.

Driving across town in a car he hotwired, he tried to remember which subdivision the coven lived in.  Finally, he spotted the Impala parked in front of a house and pulled up behind it.  Grabbing his gun, he ran inside just in time to distract the demon from killing Sam.  Before he could shoot the damned thing, she had him pinned to the wall.  He could see Sam on the opposite wall and groaned.  How were they going to get out of this?

He felt a crushing grip against his throat, though the demon stood several yards away.  Damn thing was powerful enough to choke him to death and keep Sam pinned.  Dean struggled to break free but it seemed like it was a downhill battle.

For the second time that day, Ruby appeared in the nick of time, door swinging open behind her.  “I brought you the Winchesters,” she chatted the brunette demon and Dean mouthed to Sam, knowing the bitch would betray them.  But then the two demons scuffled until Ruby was pinned to the floor.  

“She was one of mine,” the brunette commented idly.  The brunette looked from Dean to Sam, noting the bewildered looks on their faces at the admission.  A sly grin spread across her face as she held the blonde to the ground.  “Ruby here was a witch.  Of course that was when you were human.”

Dean didn’t hear much after that.  Ruby had been human, one that sold herself to a demon.  And now she was a demon herself.  Castiel’s words wrung in his ears, _“They are born of humans that sin, Dean.”_

He grit his teeth as he mulled over the words.  Was he going to become a demon?  Just another thing that he and Sam hunted.  The thought was sickening, had his stomach rolling.

Hours later, after he’d stabbed the demon with Ruby’s knife and left the blonde to clean up the mess, he stood outside their motel room.  The room had been too stuffy, needed some fresh air.  The night air was cold, sent shivers down his spine.  But it was a relief.  At least, it had been until Ruby showed up again.

The conversation left him reeling, too much to take in.  And all that seemed to echo in his mind was the fact that he was going to become a demon someday, after his time in hell.  God, the thought made his stomach flip.  He had his suspicions, but for Ruby to say it outright.  Just once, he wished things would go his way instead of the shit hitting the fan.  It’s like he could never catch a break.

His thoughts strayed to Castiel then.  Damn, he’d found an angel after all those years of searching, but it wasn’t enough.  He wanted to laugh at the irony of the situation but was too damn miserable. 

“Dean?” Sam’s voice broke though his thoughts.  He turned to see his brother sticking his head out of the motel door.  “You okay?” There was a crease between his brows as he watched his brother.  He knew there was something wrong with him, but couldn’t figure out what.  Sam wanted to dig deeper, find out what was distressing Dean.  Instead, he’d given Dean some space.  But Dean had been outside for nearly an hour.  And with the temperatures dropping, Sam was starting to worry.

Dean gave him a smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes.  “Yeah, just getting some fresh air,” he said and turned towards the motel.  As he moved inside, he tossed the can of soda to his brother.  “Did that demon say anything to you?” Dean sat in the chair, stretching his legs out.  He still ached all over, but it was nothing that a good night of sleep wouldn’t cure.

Truth was, he was curious about Ruby’s ex-boss.  He’d killed the bitch easily enough, once she’d been distracted.  But she’d been powerful, and if the blonde demon hadn’t shown, he and Sam would’ve been killed.

“Who, Tami?” Sam said while opening the soda.  The room was so quiet that the hiss of the carbonated air that exhaled from the can was like a gunshot.  Sam took a drink, not noticing Dean’s reaction at first, before saying, “She said there’s another demon trying to lead the army, and it wants me dead.”  He didn’t mention the fact that Ruby had told him the same thing not too long ago.  He was still trying to process that fact and telling Dean that he already knew would lead to an argument.

Dean froze at the name.  Gripping the arms of the chair so tightly that his knuckles turned white, he ventured, “You said its name was Tami?”  It had to be a coincidence, right?

Sam’s brows furrowed in confusion and he cast his gaze to Dean.  How could Dean be focused on the demon’s name, when he’d just told him that there was another one that wanted Sam dead?  “Yeah, that’s what the girl called her.”

“Think it’s short for Tamara?” Dean asked reluctantly.

“I guess it could be.”  When Dean cursed, Sam asked, “Why?  What’s wrong?”

“Cas thinks the witch that cursed me was working for a demon named Tamara,” the hunter responded, gritting his teeth.  He’d killed the demon without even realizing she was the one that had given Rossa the power to curse him.  If he’d known she was the one, he’d have taken his time killing her. 

Sam’s eyes widened at the confession.  “You don’t think…” his voice trailed off.

“Yeah, I do.  I mean, how many demons out there are named Tamara?  It’s gotta be the same one.”

And not only that, but something Ruby had said, when she approached Dean, had his gut churning.  She’d said she’d been a demon “since the plague was big.”  He’d thought nothing of it at the time, more concerned with how he was going to turn into a demon after being in hell.  But the words returned like a slap in the face.  And she’d been a witch before that, if what “Tami” said was true.

He paled at the realization, a little pissed he hadn’t put two and two together sooner.  Sooner, like when Ruby was within shooting range.

Sam noticed and leaned forward, “Dean, what is it?”

Dean said nothing at first.  Couldn’t believe it.  She’d been stringing Sam along this whole time, and Dean had been none the wiser.  But it had to be her.  It _had_ to.  Eyes hard, voice low in anger, he said, “I think Ruby is Rossa.”

He expected Sam to deny it, to get all defensive like he usually did when it came to Ruby.  But Sam nodded after a long moment.  It made sense, really.  Rossa was Italian for red.  And ruby was a shade of red.  “What do you want to do about it?”

What Dean wanted to do was to kill her, send a bullet straight through her skull.  But that would be kind.  Besides, they had no way of contacting the demon, no way to track her down.  She’d always come to Sam, usually when Dean wasn’t around.

“Do you think she can reverse the curse?” Sam asked hesitantly when Dean didn’t say anything.

“No.  And even if she could, it wouldn’t matter.  I just want to kill the bitch.”

It was a goal.  Gave him something to do now that they were really just killing time until his deal came due.  Because Castiel was at a loss now that his brother ditched him, and Dean certainly had no idea what to do about that.  All they could really do was track down demons, killing as many as they could while saving a few lives in the process, and hopefully they’d run across Ruby.

It was a start, at least.

Ruby watched Dean from the shadows.  The numbskull still hadn’t connected the dots, thank Lucifer for small miracles.  And it seemed he believed her lie about the contract.  That there was no way to break it.  She’d been honest with Sam when she had told the younger man that there was a way to break the contract.

There were a few ways, really.

The first and most unlikely way was for the demon to willingly release the human’s soul from the contract.  But the odds of Lilith terminating Dean’s contract was like a billion to one.  Never going to happen, end of story.  Because they needed Dean in hell, needed him to break.  And Lilith wasn’t going to release him for anything.

The other was a little more practical, but still unlikely.  Kill the demon that held the contract.  But Lilith was old, one of Lucifer’s first, and powerful.  More powerful than anything the Winchesters have faced.

Smiling at the thought of being able to take a blade to the man’s soul, Ruby walked away.  Oh, she would enjoy torturing the man, making him scream until he learned that she was not to be messed with.

But there was a pressing problem that she needed to attend to.  The angel was still alive, the Nightmare having failed to kill him.  Ruby, and all of hell especially, couldn’t afford for him to live.  Dean didn’t know yet, believed that he was doomed to go to hell no matter what, but the angel held his salvation.

If he found out, everything would be ruined.  Because the angel could destroy the contract.  Ruby wanted Dean badly, wanted his soul for herself.  She wasn’t about to let the damned angel take Dean away from her, not after getting this far.  So the only solution was for the angel to die.  And it appeared as though she was going to have to take matters into her own hands.

Melting into the shadows, she appeared in a shed about a hundred miles away from the Winchesters.  The old, two-story house was dark, no lights on.  She’d been here before, when she helped the older hunter fix the Colt.  Part of Lilith’s plan, she thought grimly.  A good way to get the boys to trust her.

But there was no way inside, she found as she circled the house under the cover of shadows.  Couldn’t get closer than a hundred feet.  Bobby Singer had completely demon-proofed the house.  And angel-proofed, it seemed, judging by the sigils painted on the siding.

Why would they need that? she wondered as she stopped underneath a tree, crossing her arms.  Unless, the angels didn’t take kindly to one of their own becoming human. 

Before she could even move, she found herself pinned to the tree, feeling the meatsuit’s skin scraping against the bark.  Looking into the cold, brown eyes of the man, she realized what he was.  Felt fear, real fear, boil up inside her. 

“Demon scum,” the man drawled, voice low.  He brought a dark hand to her forehead and she knew she had to act quick.

“You want the angel dead, right?” she gasped out hurriedly.  The hand paused in midair and the angel’s brows rose.  Ruby took that as a sign to continue.  “So do I.”

“And this concerns me, how?” he demanded, not releasing her.

“The hunters he hangs out with, they trust me.  More or less,” she explained.  “I can get close to him.”

The smile that spread across the dark angel’s lips was a little disturbing, even to her.  But he let go and she dropped to the ground, breathing a sigh of relief.  Damn, but this was messed up, even for her.

Castiel stood at the kitchen sink, washing the dishes that had accumulated in the past few days.  With just him and Bobby, there wasn’t much.  And even though it was just cleaning, he felt better doing something rather than sitting around.

Wiping his hands on a towel, he rolled his sleeves down before hobbling to the library.  His ankle was feeling better, he could actually walk now.  But he still couldn’t put too much pressure on it or stand for too long without it throbbing.

Looking out the window, he noticed the snow had stopped already.  There was only a light dusting of white across the ground.  He’d made the decision to find the Righteous Man.  But the only way he could think of to do so, was to contact the King of the Crossroads.  He’d never met the creature, had only heard stories about the man. 

But surely he would know all the souls that had a contract with a demon.  If he could just get a list, then Castiel would be able to track the people down and determine if they were righteous or not.  It wasn’t the most infallible plan, but it was a start at least.

Bobby looked up from the paper he was reading, watched as Castiel stopped in front of the window.  The kid looked almost mopey, a pout on his lips and shoulders slightly slumped.  Figured he wasn’t used to just doing nothing.  So he set the paper down and stood, surprising the angel who turned curious blue eyes to him.

“You ever shot a gun before?” Bobby asked as he grabbed the handgun he kept in the top desk drawer.  When Castiel shook his head, the hunter motioned for him to follow.

Castiel followed obediently.  He grabbed his trench coat when Bobby tugged on a coat of his own, before heading outside.  The older man set up a few cans on the hood of an old, rusted car that had seen better days before moving to stand beside Castiel.

“First things you should know about guns is safety.  Don’t point it at anyone unless you intend to shoot ‘em.  And for that matter, don’t point it at yourself.”  Bobby held out the gun, resting it in the palm of his hands.  He pointed to a small switch on the side, “This is the safety.  Keep it on ‘til you’re ready to fire.”

Castiel listened intently as the hunter explained the many rules of guns.  When asked to, he repeated them, showing that he understood.  Finally, he handed over the gun and told Castiel to aim for the cans.

The gun was foreign in his hands.  He was used to an angel’s blade, knew how to use it deftly and precisely.  With the gun, he felt awkward.  Much like most of his first experiences at humanity.  But it seemed like he would be a human for a long time, trying to find the Righteous Man.  And it would be wise to learn about their weapons, should the occasion ever call for it.

Sucking in a breath, he released the safety and aimed, finger brushing the trigger.  He exhaled slowly and released.

He wasn’t surprised that he missed the targets.  Or even the car, for that matter.  Bobby smiled and clapped him on the back.  “Don’t worry, kid.  Shoulda seen Dean’s first attempts at shooting.”  He smiled fondly at the memory.

It was blaringly obvious that Bobby was a vital part of the Winchester’s lives.  Castiel was grateful that the hunter let him stay, after everything that had happened.  Because of him, Bobby’s house had been wrecked.  And now he had to worry about angels coming after him.

At least Gabriel had managed to carve protections sigils on his ribs.  No angel would be able to find him, or the Winchesters.

Bobby noticed the distant look on the angel’s face.  Taking the gun, he flicked the safety on and unloaded the cartridge.  “C’mon, let’s find something to eat.”

The old hunter had been teaching Castiel different things off and on while the Winchesters were gone.  He could now use a microwave to fix macaroni and cheese or soup, knew to shut the door on the refrigerator, and could make simple sandwiches.  The stove, however, was off limits.

“Don’t want my house to burn down,” Bobby had said.

After dinner, Bobby was back to reading through newspaper articles.  Castiel sat on a couch, book in hand.  Contacting the King of the Crossroads was tricky and Castiel didn’t want another repeat of what had happened last time he used a summoning ritual.  Bobby’s library, he’d learned, was extensive, if a bit unorganized.  Surely he would have something that could be useful.

Bobby looked over at Castiel hours later.  The kid managed to fall asleep on the couch, book in hand.  Reminded him of Sam, to be honest.  That boy always had a book around, growing up.  Glancing at the clock, he realized it was only ten.  He’d give it another hour before turning in for the night.

At least there hadn’t been a bunch of phone calls.  Hunter activity must be slow.

Flipping through another paper, this one from somewhere, he found a potential case.  It seemed like something supernatural, so he decided he’d check it out in the morning.  Another look to Castiel had him thinking.  He’d been doing fine the last couple days.  Certainly could find something to eat, and now that he knew how to use a gun, though not very well, Bobby was certain he could manage a few days on his own.

Mind made up, he turned in for the night.

Castiel woke with a kink in his neck.  He rolled his neck to relieve the tension, startling as a loud _thump_ broke the silence.  The book he’d been reading last night had fallen to the ground.  He picked it up and set it on the couch before standing.

Bobby was nowhere to be found.

Frowning, he moved into the kitchen.  There was a large piece of paper stuck on the fridge.  Upon closer inspection, he realized it was a note from Bobby, saying he’d gone on a hunt and to call if he needed anything.  A couple phone numbers were listed.

He stood there, staring at the message for a long time.  What was he supposed to do?  Everyone was out hunting, and here he was, left behind and useless.  And, he realized after a long moment, a little lonely.  He’d never felt alone before.  Back in Heaven, his brothers and sisters were always around, and even if he was technically alone, their voices were always in the back of his mind.

But now, he was completely alone.

It was strange and he didn’t like it.  So he kept himself busy.  He skimmed through nearly a dozen books on demons and had found nothing potentially useful.  When that lost his interest, he began cleaning.  Dusting, sweeping, and he even organized Bobby’s books on subject.  Demons, ghosts, vampires.  That had taken the longest and it had been three days since he’d heard from anyone.

His gaze wandered to the telephones near Bobby’s desk.  There were several of them, all labeled.  They rang a few times, but Bobby had told him not to answer any of them except for the white one on the end.  And it hadn’t.  It was also the one that Bobby had taught him to use, and Castiel wondered if he should try calling the man.  Or even Dean.

But he decided against it.  There was nothing wrong, he didn’t need anything.  He was just lonely.

So he forced his gaze away and found something else to clean.  That he’d become so dependent on the hunters didn’t cross his mind.

He found his way upstairs and started in the hallway.  Then the room he’d been sleeping in.  There wasn’t much to dust in there, so he made the bed and dusted off the rickety dresser.  There was an oblong black box on it that had a layer of dust, so he swiped the cloth over it too.

 _“Dead I am the sky, watchin’ angels fry while they slowly turn, conquering the worm,”_ a guttural voice broke out loudly, shocking Castiel so much that he stumbled backwards, dropping the cloth.  The loud music continued and his heart rate returned to normal once he realized it was a radio, like the one in Dean’s car.

He stepped closer, trying to figure out how to turn it off, or at least lower the volume.  He’d watched Dean do it a dozen times or more, surely he could figure it out?  Reaching towards a knob, the music turn to static before another song came in.

 _“…or some eclipse of the moon?  Let an angel swing and make you swoon.  Then you will see, you will see,”_ a softer male voice sang.  The song was much nicer than the previous one, but it was still loud.  He tried a different knob, found that it was indeed the volume.  He turned it the wrong way at first, then the other way.  He let it stay at a reasonable level, nowhere near as loud as it had been, but loud enough he could still hear it.

Now that the music was playing, he found he liked it.  It was much better than the quiet house.  Satisfied, he continued about the room cleaning.


	11. Chapter 11

Dean was livid.  Bela had screwed them over for the last time.  The scratch-offs she’d taken, he could handle.  The lies and cockiness, he’d get over it.  But to steal the Colt when they needed it?  Especially since there was some badass demon boss that was after Sam.  No, she’d gone too far and he was not letting it slide this time.

They decided to head back to Bobby’s.  The man had a lot of contacts, could probably find her that way.  Dean stormed into the house, needing to take his anger out on something.  Not to mention he was dog-ass tired, having dealt with yet another crazy Freddy Krueger wannabe then driving all the way back to Bobby’s.  Maybe he’d catch up on his sleep, take a long overdue nap.

But he froze in his tracks, Sam almost slamming into him.

“Dean, what—” but the complaint died on his tongue as he realized exactly what had stunned his brother. 

Were they in the right house?  Sam peeked out the window and, sure enough, all the wrecked and falling apart cars were still in the yard.  Definitely the right house.  But he’d never seen the house so… _clean_.

“What’re you idjits looking at?” Bobby’s voice broke through the shock.  Moving aside, they let the older hunter through.  He froze, much in the same way that Dean had.  “Who’da thunk it?” he mused aloud after a long silence then moved into the kitchen to grab a coke.

Turned out the library was just as clean as the kitchen.  Books were put away on shelves where they belonged and they could actually see Bobby’s desk.  And none of the hunters could find a trace of dust anywhere.

“Huh,” Bobby mumbled then went to sit down at his desk.  He flipped through the drawers and found everything organized.  “Should leave the guy behind more often.”

“Speaking of Cas, where is he?” Sam wondered aloud, peering about the room.  They hadn’t talked to the guy in nearly two weeks, let alone even see him.  He felt bad about it, but Bobby needed help on a case and they had no other choice.

Dean sighed and volunteered, “I’ll go find him.”

They hadn’t passed him on the way inside the house, so he was either downstairs, or up.  Dean figured he’d more likely be upstairs, maybe sleeping since it was later in the evening, so he took the stairs.  He noted that the upper level was just as clean as downstairs.  He idly wondered how long it had taken the angel to clean everything, especially since he was fairly certain that Bobby had never cleaned, or at least not that Dean remembered.

After a brief search of the upstairs and not finding Castiel, he headed to the basement.  Halfway down the stairs, he could hear music.  Brows furrowing, he continued.  The music was coming from the panic room, the door propped open with a block.

He wasn’t much into newer music, but this song wasn’t too bad.  Had a good beat at least.  As he approached, the music became louder, though not nearly as loud as Dean would normally play it.  Over the music, he could hear random _thumps_ and _whacks_ coming from the other side of the heavy, iron door.  He stepped closer to the door and peered inside through the small window.

Castiel had set up one of the old punching bags that Bobby had when he and John taught the boys how to throw a punch.  Thing hadn’t been used in years; once Dean and Sam learned the basics, they practiced with each other or John and Bobby.

He moved fast, like when he’d fought the Nightmare awhile back.  Dean thought it was some kind of karate or kung fu, but it didn’t quite look like the fighting style he’d seen in Enter the Dragon or any other martial arts movie.  It was more, hell, _fluid_ than anything. He landed swift kicks to the bag, followed by a few uppercuts and a roundhouse kick.  His movements were controlled, not a single ounce of energy was wasted.

Dean was about to turn away, let the guy finish his workout.  It was pretty damn obvious the guy could handle himself.  Didn’t need Dean looking out for him.  He’d thought he’d gotten over that in the weeks he’d been gone, but his chest tightened at the thought and it was clear he hadn’t.  But as he turned, there was a loud crash, followed by what had to be a curse in a foreign language.  Heart racing, he swung the door open to find Castiel sitting on the floor, cradling his ankle.

Wide, blue eyes turned to him, mouth dropping open.  “Dean,” Castiel breathed as the hunter kneeled beside him.  “You’re back.”

Pain was visible in those eyes, but something else caught Dean’s attention.  Relief and even happiness showed in Castiel’s eyes, surprising the hunter.  Castiel was _happy_ to see Dean, and that made his heart beat faster.  “Woulda been back sooner, but Bobby needed help on a case,” he explained as he helped Castiel up.  They hobbled out of the panic room, Dean taking most of the angel’s weight.  “What were you doin’, anyway?  You’re supposed to let that heal.”

Castiel looked away, suddenly feeling guilty.  “I’ve been on edge.  I found the bag while I was cleaning.  It was a good stress reliever.”  They made it to the stairs and Castiel used the railing to climb up.  “Despite my ankle, I’m feeling much better.”

Dean shook his head, grin on his face as he followed.  “Buddy, I can think of a much better way to relieve stress.”

He stopped halfway up the stairs and shifted so he could see Dean.  The hunter hadn’t realized Castiel stopped and almost bumped into him.  Dean stood on the step below him, but was only an inch or so shorter.  The reversal in height strangely exciting.

“What?” Castiel asked, blinking. 

Dean frowned, not understanding what the angel meant.  His mind had been so far away, wondering what it would be like give up control to Castiel.  He knew the guy liked taking control in their makeout sessions, but to give him control completely?  His dick twitched in interest. “What?”

“What better way is there to relieve stress?”

The question was asked so simply, Dean couldn’t even speak.  Guy was completely naïve, especially given Dean’s train of thought.  He smiled, the gesture reaching his eyes, “Next time you’re stressed, I’ll show you.”

Castiel didn’t know what to make of the promise.  So he nodded and continued up the stairs carefully.  His ankle had been doing much better, so much so, that he’d been able to spar in the panic room.  But he’d gotten too confident and his ankle had given out when he tried a kick.

Once upstairs, he noticed that Bobby was sitting at his desk, on the phone with someone.  He moved through the library and took a seat at the kitchen table, using an opposite chair to prop up his leg.  Sitting down felt nice and before he realized he was thirsty, Dean had passed him a glass of water.

He was glad everyone was back.  The house had been too quiet while they were gone, and though the music from the radio had helped somewhat, it had been near unbearable.

Sam walked in the room, heading to the fridge.  He pulled out a soda before moving to lean against the counter.  “Not much luck,” he said, nodding towards Bobby.  “No one’s seen her.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll find her,” Dean shrugged as he crossed his arms.

Castiel looked from one brother to another, blinking.  “What happened?”

“That case we helped Bobby with?  We had to call in Bela for help,” Dean nearly gagged as he said the words.  He could feel anger boiling up again, but not nearly as strong as it had been before.

“She stole the Colt,” Sam explained as he set his soda on the counter. 

Nobody spoke for a moment.  They could vaguely make out what Bobby was saying on the phone.  Then, he slammed the phone down and grumbled before standing and walking into the kitchen.

“I got nothin’,” he said.  “But I talked to a few other hunters.  They said they’d keep an eye out for her.”

With nothing else to do, they turned in for the night.  Castiel took a quick shower to wash away the sweat and grime before going upstairs to the spare bedroom.  The workout had been nice, finally able to burn off some extra energy.  He found he fell asleep much easier, though he was certain part of the reason for that was because Dean and the others were back.

Dean stretched out on the couch, Sam on the floor.  His brother was already out and his snores broke the silence.  He’d spent almost his entire life sharing a room with his brother, had long grown used to the sound.  Staring up at the ceiling, he didn’t want to sleep.  He was tired, but lately, getting a good night’s rest was near impossible.  Not for lack of trying.  It was the damn nightmares that kept haunting him.

Of Sam turning on him.

Of Castiel leaving. 

Of becoming a _demon_.

But there was one thing that was certain—he couldn’t just sit around and wait for someone to find Bela.  No, in the morning he’d head out and hunt her down.  Or track some demons to hunt Ruby down.  Anything besides sitting around and doing nothing.

Because he didn’t have that much time left.  A few months at most.

He rolled over onto his side, trying to shut out his thoughts.

If he killed Ruby, then they might never find out who this new demon leader was.  He supposed they could find another demon to torture and get the information from.  But Ruby was, for some strange reason, pretending to be on their side.  Because he knew there was no way that Ruby, that _Rossa_ , would willingly help him.  That story she fed him about getting Sam ready for when Dean died was total bullshit.   She was planning something, he’d stake his life on it.

Biding his time, he could find out.  He knew she’d turn up sooner or later.  She always did it seemed like.  That way, he could focus on finding Bela and the Colt.

With that thought in mind, he rolled onto his stomach, finally able to fall asleep.

In the morning, Sam listened to Dean’s plan regarding Ruby.  It seemed plausible, but he didn’t care for it.  He could tell Dean didn’t either, but it was the better move, keeping the enemy alive to learn more rather than kill her and return to square one.  Might not be the smartest, but it was their best option.

They still hadn’t heard anything from Bobby’s contacts, so they packed up.  At least, if they were on the road, they might find something useful.  Sitting around here, there was nothing to do and Sam was certain one of them, or all of them, would go stir crazy.

He pounded down the stairs, duffle bag packed and in hand, ready to go.  But as he was heading to the car, he heard Dean and Castiel arguing in the kitchen.

“Your ankle’s not healed yet, you’re staying here,” Dean was saying and Sam could easily imagine his big brother in full-on mother hen mode.  He’d been on the receiving end countless times.

“I have been here for weeks, Dean.  I’m _going_ ,” he could hear Castiel reply in an ‘end of subject’ tone that even had Sam shuddering.  He could only picture the fierce and serious look that the angel tended to get and was grateful it wasn’t directed at him.

“I’ll be in the car, Dean,” he called hesitantly as he left the house.  He threw the bag in the trunk and slid into the passenger seat.  Not a minute later, the car rocked as the trunk was slammed and both the driver’s door and the backseat passenger door opened.

It was going to be a long ride, Sam thought.  He pulled out his phone, maybe find something to distract him.

In the backseat, Castiel stared out the window, lips tilted down slightly.  He wanted to talk with Dean and Sam, tell them about his plan to contact the King of the Crossroads demon.  The last several days of searching through Bobby’s books had been useful.  He’d found a spell to summon the demon and the old hunter had all the supplies to do so.  But he was torn because he didn’t want to put them in danger again.  And if his lead didn’t pan out, then he would be at another dead end.

His mind made up, he leaned further back into the seat and shifted so that his leg was lying along the seat. 

The entire day was spent driving and they finally stopped in a small town to get something to eat and crash for the night.  Once they got a hotel room, Sam hooked up his laptop and buried himself in it.  Castiel set his bag down by the couch carefully.  He’d brought everything he would need to summon the demon.  Now, he would just have to bide his time, wait for the right opportunity.

“Are you kidding me?” Dean grumbled as he shut the door behind him, reading a newspaper.

Sam looked up from the computer screen curiously.  “What is it?”  Without a word, Dean handed over the paper and he skimmed through it. 

Dean complained, “Kinda suspicious, don’t you think?  I mean, when do we ever just come across a case?”

Sam knew his brother was right.  But, “We’re here, Dean.  We might as well check it out.”

He sighed and reached into his duffle bag for the containers of salt.  “Here,” he said as he tossed one to Castiel.  They made salt lines along the windows and doors, just to be safe.   “We can figure it out in the morning.”

Sam shut his laptop, agreeing.  Get a good night’s rest, then they could research the Broward County Mystery Spot. It seemed that they’d be staying in town for a few days to work a new case. 

Castiel hadn’t thought he’d be that lucky so quick.  He stretched out on the couch, pretending to sleep while he waited for Dean and Sam to turn in for the night.  Waiting until he was certain the brothers were asleep, he grabbed his trench coat and wrote a quick note before leaving the hotel.  He wanted to scope the town for a place to perform the ritual.

He’d considered performing the ritual back at Bobby’s, while all three hunters were gone.  But after the fiasco with Zachariah, he knew he couldn’t try something like that again in the older man’s home.  He didn’t want to wear out his welcome. 

The town was quiet, even in the middle of the night.  He had thought there would be some people out, like those that went to bars or other den of iniquities.  But it was strangely quiet.  His grace almost pulsed against his chest and he stopped in his stride. 

Something strange was going on.

Sam was irritable, Dean noted as he chewed on a piece of bacon.  Come to think of it, he’d been a little bitch since they’d woken up.  And what was with this déjà vu thing?  Because all he remembered was going to bed last night after finding out about a possible case.

The veins in Sam’s neck were standing out and he clenched his teeth, looking all around the diner with wild eyes.  Sighing, Dean took a drink of his soda and let his brother be.  Must be his time of the month or something.

Sam tightened his grip on the mug of coffee.  This was the last straw.  Dean had been shot, hit by a car, had a desk dropped on him, choked on a sausage, slipped in the shower, the list went on.  And he wanted to talk with Castiel about it, but the angel had gone out for a walk, of all things.  He’d only seen him once come late morning that first Tuesday, but since then, Dean had died before they reached that point.

So seeing the angel storm inside the small diner had him in shock.  Already, the day was different than the last seven Tuesdays.  “Cas?” He asked as he stood.

Dean watched in confusion.  “Where’ve you been?”

“Never mind that,” Sam snapped and turned to the angel.  “Cas, something’s—”

“Something is wrong,” Castiel finished, eyes blazing as he looked over both hunters.  They appeared to be fine, but something had been distracting him while he was out scoping the town.  Something ominous.  And he only just realized what was going on this morning.  “My grace has been trying to tell me, but it is as though something has placed us in a time loop.”

“Exactly, like Groundhog Day,” Sam added, relieved that he wasn’t the only one.  He’d thought he was going crazy.

Castiel took a critical eye to the small diner.  There was something off.  His grace was almost buzzing and that could only mean one thing: angels.  But why would an angel waste their time with a time loop instead of just capturing him?  Obviously they’ve had plenty of opportunities to do so.  After all, he’d been near-defenseless while he was searching for a summoning location, especially against angels.

A customer stood and left the diner.

Castiel tracked the man’s movement and once he left the diner, the angel followed.  “Cas?” Sam asked and Dean echoed the name.  But Sam pushed open the door and continued to tail the angel down the street.  Dean cursed and chased after them, once he threw down a few bills.  He shouted a quick thanks to the waitress before catching up with Sam.

They found Castiel in an alley with the business man pinned to the brick wall.  “Help,” the man shouted when he spotted the brothers.  “This guy’s a lunatic!”

His pleas went ignored by the angel.  Dean looked at him, brows raised.  “Cas, what’re you doing?”  It wasn’t like Castiel to just attack someone innocent.  This whole day had been weird, so maybe this guy had something to do with it.

Castiel continued to stare at the man with that penetrating gaze of his, as though searching for something.  After a long moment, “Gabriel, I know it’s you,” Castiel deadpanned.

At first, no one said anything.  The man continued to look terrified.  But after a heavy dose of intense staring from Castiel, he sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes.  “Of course you did.  Too smart for your own good.”

With that, his face shifted.  Short, brown hair lengthened to honey blond, dark eyes into amber.  But that cocky grin remained.  It was a face that both Dean and Sam had seen before.  Sam’s eyes narrowed, “The Trickster?” he said, taking a step closer.

“The _Trickster_ is Gabriel?” Dean frowned.  This day just kept getting crazier.  What was next, that Elvis had been turned into a vampire?  Come to think of it, that would explain the sightings.

Castiel released his brother, now that he knew he wasn’t going anywhere.  He turned to look from Sam to Dean, tilting his head in confusion.  “You’ve met before?”  From what he’d understood, Gabriel had been in hiding.

Gabriel laughed, “Oh, the knuckleheads and I go way back.  Tried to kill me.  Obviously, they failed.” He waved his arms about, showing that he was indeed alive and well.

“And if I recall, you were killing innocent people!” Sam interjected hotly, glaring at the archangel they had thought was a Trickster.

“Puh-lease,” Gabriel scoffed, shaking his head.  “Those douche bags deserved what they got.  Just like this guy.  Didn’t believe in wormholes, so I dropped him in one.”

But that was the past.  What Sam wanted to know was, “So why kill Dean over and over?”

Castiel visibly tensed and he cast a distressed look to his brother.  He hadn’t known that, just that there had been some kind of time loop centered around the brothers.  “Gabriel, what is going on?” he demanded.

Gabriel took a step back, holding his hands up in surrender.  “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Cassy.  I wouldn’t _really_ kill him.”  With a smirk, he continued, “Just trying to get a point across is all.”

When he didn’t continue, Dean prompted, “Which is?”

Gabriel sent a glare to Dean, “You two are ridiculously co-dependent on each other.  Sacrificing yourselves all over the place, I mean, jeez,” he waved his arms for emphasis.  “The demons know this, they’ll use it against you.”  He let the words sink in for a minute.  Then a thought occurred to him.  Smiling, he asked, “Speaking of demons, hey Cassy, you find the Righteous Man yet?”

Castiel closed his eyes, taking a slow, deep breath.  It was obvious that he hadn’t.  Gabriel was just being his annoying self.  “If you are just going to be arrogant about my lack of progress, then why not just tell me who it is?”

“You really didn’t think it’d be that easy, did you?  Sorry, bro.  But,” he said in a sing-song voice.  “I can fix your leg for you.”  He snapped his fingers then and Castiel could feel the subtle throb disappear.  Along with the pain, Gabriel had disappeared as well.

“Your brothers are dicks,” Dean commented and Castiel hummed in agreement.

“So what’s this about a Righteous Man?” Sam brought up, glad that the time loop was over.  At least, he hoped.

Castiel waited a moment, unsure.  Then he told them everything that Gabriel had told him the last time they had talked.  Lucifer and the seals, how the Righteous Man would start it, and his plan for finding the Righteous Man.

“If this demon’s so powerful, we need a way to protect ourselves in case things get out of hand.  But we need the Colt for that,” Sam said once Castiel had finished. 

“So it’s back to hunting Bela,” Dean summed.  They started heading back to the hotel then.  “There’s one thing I know for certain though.”

“What?” Sam asked.

“We’re getting the fuck outta here ‘cause I ain’t dying today.”  He paused, then added, “Again.”

Dean’s phone rang a few hours later.  It was Bobby.  “You boys best get to Atlantic City and fast.  Talked to Jo, she’s down there now.  Says she ran into Bela.”

He hung up, a smile plastered on his face and eyes mischievous.  Sam looked at him with a crease between his brows.  Before he could even ask, Dean said, “We’re going to Atlantic City!”

“Oh God.  I mean, uh,” he tried to correct himself when he realized Castiel was standing next to him.  Blue eyes turned to him and when Sam saw the amusement in Castiel’s eyes, he gave up.  “Let’s go.”

Dean cheered and cranked the volume on the radio, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel.  Of all the places they could have started searching for the crazy woman, it was Atlantic City, the place he’d been wanting to go.  He’d definitely make use of his time there.


	12. Chapter 12

He drove through the day, only stopping long enough to hit the restrooms and grab something to eat.  When they got to Atlantic City, it was early evening and the weather was mild compared to back at Bobby’s.

“I just finished with a ghost when I saw her.  She was leaving this building,” Jo said, pointing to the apartments across the street.  “But she hasn’t been back since yesterday morning.”

Turned out, Bela cleared out the room she’d been renting.  The trip had been a waste.  “Not a complete waste,” Dean smirked and Sam had to fight the sigh.  The older Winchester turned to Jo, giving her a grin.  “We’re hitting the casino.  You in?”

“Damn straight,” Jo cheered, not even needing a second to think it over.

The four piled into the Impala, Jo taking the shotgun seat and Sam sitting in the back with Castiel.  When they got there, Sam was surprisingly the first one out of the car.  “I’ll get us a room,” Sam mumbled.  The idea of gambling money, spending time in a crowded place like that, with the noise and chaos, did not appeal to him.

“Get us a good one!” Dean hollered after him.  When Sam gave him a bitchface, Dean returned the look.  “I mean it!  Could use a break, huh?”

Sam shrugged and went to check in, getting two adjoining rooms so Jo would have her own space.  But an idea planted itself in his mind.  This little break was the perfect opportunity, he thought with a grin.  He returned to the others, keycards in hand.  “We’re on the third floor, room 357.” 

Dean took a keycard, smiling brightly.  Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out several bills and turned to Castiel and Jo.  Giving them each a few fifties, he said, “Knock yourself out,” before taking off. 

Sam shook his head in slight disbelief.  “I got adjoining rooms, Jo.  Yours is 359.  Have fun,” he said, giving her a pointed look that Castiel couldn’t even begin to decipher.  The young hunter turned and headed upstairs.  At least there was complimentary breakfast and internet.  Maybe he’d even check out the pool. 

Jo’s phone beeped in her pocket a moment later.  She pulled out the device, reading the small screen.  Castiel was at a loss for what he should do.  He’d never been in such a place, where there was so much…sin going on.  But Dean was obviously happy to be here.  Should he try and follow the hunter’s lead?

“Hey,” Jo said as she put her phone back in her pocket, then tugged him down the hallway after Dean.  “You and Dean do it yet?”

Frowning, head cocked to the side, Castiel regarded her curiously.  “Do what?”

She slapped her palm to her face, much like he’d seen Dean do on occasion.  “Did you and Dean hook up?”  When the blank look on his face remained, she continued, “Sex.  I mean sex.”

Ah, why couldn’t she have said that from the beginning?  “No, we have not had sex.”

Pouting, she continued, “But you guys are together, right?  I mean, like a couple.”

“Not that I am aware,” he said uncertainly.

“But you want to be, don’t you?”

He certainly liked kissing Dean.  It was very enjoyable.  But they hadn’t done that in weeks, and he found himself wanting to kiss Dean.  He spotted the man through the crowd, eyes locking.  Dean smiled, gave him a thumbs up before moving away. 

Did he want a relationship with the man?  Angels mated for life, bonding their grace together.  However, he’d seen Dean interact with women, heard tales from Sam about Dean’s past relationships.  They’d merely been a way to pass the time, from what Castiel understood.  Even the characters on Dr. Sexy seemed to switch partners often.

It was clear that humans had different ideals in mating than angels.  And he couldn’t expect Dean to change.  But something about the hunter called to Castiel.  He’d never been drawn to another angel, never felt any kind of attraction for any of his brothers or sisters, not in the way that Dean appealed to him.  His bright soul, loyalty to his family, saving people and never expecting gratitude.

If Dean were an angel, then Castiel would have no problem in saying yes, he would like to become his mate.  But that wasn’t the case.  Dean was human and Castiel was…

He was human as well.

“I would like to pursue a relationship with Dean,” he admitted.

Jo’s face lit up with a bright smile, “Great!  I know just the way to do it!”

Castiel couldn’t find fault in her plan.  After all, she had been behind Operation Mistletoe, as she had named it.  And that had turned out quite well.

He was surprisingly not doing too terrible, considering his luck lately.  He’d won back what he’d lost in the last hour, staying even for the most part.  But for some reason, the slot machines just weren’t cutting it.  So Dean moved on to some of the more high stakes games.

Sitting down at a table, he was dealt in for the next round of poker.  Now this, this he could do.  He didn’t like to brag despite what Sam might say, but he was pretty damn good at poker.  He played a few rounds, completely focused on the game and the other players, trying to read their expressions, when something caught the corner of his eye.

Shifting just slightly in his seat, he spotted Castiel sitting at the bar.  To be honest, he hadn’t expected the angel to gamble.  Sitting at the bar, nursing a drink was the most logical place he would be, apart from hanging out with Sam back in the hotel room.

But Castiel wasn’t sitting by himself.  No, there was a dark haired woman, very attractive Dean noted, sitting in the stool next to the angel.  She was looking at Castiel like women looked at Dean when he had his full charm on.  And the worst part of it was, was that he was smiling, seeming to soak up the attention.

He tried to ignore it.  Played another round, though he lost horribly.  If Castiel wanted to flirt with some random chick, then far be it for Dean to stop him.  It wasn’t as though Dean had any claim on him, wasn’t like they were together.  They’d only made out a couple times! 

Castiel smiled and nodded, like Jo had told him to do.  Flirting was much easier than he had anticipated, especially since the woman was doing most of the talking.   All he really had to do was listen and nod occasionally.  He took another drink of the alcohol he’d ordered.  That was another tip Jo gave him.  If he felt nervous, just order something to drink, just not to drink too much.

But how much was too much?  He supposed that since his nervousness disappeared, he’d had enough.  And he was feeling a bit warm.

A quick glance sideways showed Dean still playing poker.  He pressed his lips together.  This wasn’t going how it was supposed to.  Jo said that Dean would get jealous and “steal him away” from the woman.  But that had not happened yet.  And he was still stuck flirting with the woman, who Castiel had no interest in.

“So, what d’ya say we go talk in private?” the brunette smiled as she toyed with the collar of his shirt.

Castiel blinked.  Leaving the area meant that Dean wouldn’t see their flirting and wouldn’t get jealous.  He looked to Jo, who’d taken a seat across the bar.  She held her thumbs up, a signal that he’d learned was positive.  He didn’t understand, but told the woman, “Yes.”

When he looked over, he saw Castiel getting up and leaving with the woman.  She was pulling him by the hand, all smiles.  The angel had his customary confused face on, though he followed willingly.  Gritting his teeth, Dean folded the round despite having a pair of Jacks, and cashed in the last of his chips.  The man was taking his time, or at least it seemed like.  Dean lost track of Castiel by the time he finally got his cash.  He weaved in and out of the crowds, searching for a mop of dark hair or that tan trench coat.  Finally spotting the tail of the coat slipping through one of the doorways, he hurried to catch up.

“Cas,” he called out as he exited the door and stepped into a hallway, spotting the angel not too far away. 

Castiel turned immediately at the sound of Dean’s voice.  The woman seemed annoyed at the interruption, but stopped as well.  “Yes?”  He wanted to smile because Jo’s planned appeared to be working.  Instead he kept his face straight, yet attentive.

Now that he had gotten Castiel’s attention, Dean didn’t know what to say.  He’d been so pissed that Castiel went with this woman, an obvious hookup, instead of hanging out with the hunter.  Especially since he’d thought there was something between them.  Looking at Castiel, maybe he’d been wrong.

“Listen, we’re kinda busy,” the woman said, sounding miffed.  She put her hands on her hips to give the full effect.

He was about to give up, just say forget it and head back to the slot machines.  But the look in Castiel’s eyes had him rethinking.  The guy looked almost…mischievous, ghost of a smile tugging the corners of his lips.  So Dean smiled a flirty smile at the woman, “Lady, you’re wasting your time with him.”

Brows raised, the woman replied in a superior tone, “Why’s that?”

Dean didn’t respond, at least in voice.  No, he was a man of action, always had been.  So he took the two steps closer to Castiel, getting in his personal space and tugging him against his body.  Not waiting to see if he would protest, Dean brought a hand to Castiel’s chin and claimed his lips, tongue diving right in and tasting.

The woman’s eyes widened in shock and she mumbled something before storming away, but neither man heard her.

Castiel grinned against Dean’s lips as he pushed him to the wall, holding him there.  Lips traced his jaw, working his way down to the hunter’s neck.

“Jo put you up to this, didn’t she?” Dean held back a gasp as he felt a tongue dart out against his neck.

He hummed before biting down gently.  “She suggested making you jealous.”  Blowing on the reddened skin, he continued, “I assume it worked.”

“Well done, Sherlock.  Can we move this to our room?” Dean motioned about the hallway.  Castiel seemed to seriously consider the thought, the little exhibitionist.  Without waiting for a response, Dean pulled away and headed towards the closest elevator, knowing the angel would follow.

He was relieved to see the elevator empty.  Once the doors shut, he was on Castiel.  Hands roamed, groins pressed together, mouths battled for dominance.  God, he’d missed this.  It’d been too long since he’d had sex, since he’d even been close to another person like this.  That it was Castiel turned him on further.  He was so whipped.

When the doors opened, they stumbled down the hall and finally made it to their room.  Sam was nowhere in sight, but he didn’t think too long on it.  Only thought enough to put the _Do Not Disturb_ sign on the doorknob before locking it.

Castiel’s fingers traced the hem of the hunter’s shirt before running his hands along his sides, tugging the shirt up as his hands explored the tan flesh underneath.  The muscles rippled under the attention and he felt every little movement.  Dean was reluctant to pull away and once the shirt was off, he dragged Castiel to him before pushing him backwards, towards the single bed in the room.

The angel felt his knees hit the back of the bed and he buckled, dragging Dean down with him and never breaking the kiss.  Dean moved over him, settling himself between Castiel’s legs and quickly unbuttoning the shirt.  In mere seconds, his shirt was discarded and Dean kissed his way along a clean-shaven jaw, working his way along the pale flesh.

A shuddering gasp reached his ears when he darted his tongue across a hardened nub.  Hands grasped at his hair, body arching into the touch and trying to get closer.  Dean smiled and pressed his teeth against the nub, biting gently.

“Dean,” the angel gasped.  He wanted more, his groin tightening almost uncomfortably.  The friction that Dean provided seemed almost too much.  When the hunter’s hands strayed to his hips, fingers dancing around the button of his pants, Castiel tensed.

Dean noticed and pulled away, looking into those blue eyes curiously.  “What’s wrong?”

The faint blush that spread across the angel’s cheeks had Dean’s brows rising.  He suddenly had a feeling as to what Castiel was trying to tell him.  “I’ve never done this,” Castiel admitted, voice barely above a whisper and Dean had to lean forward to hear him.

“Seriously?”  At the nod, Dean continued, “I thought you said angels have sex.”

The blush grew and Castiel’s eyes darted away, unable to hold the hunter’s gaze.  “I’ve never had occasion.”

The sound of their breathing filled the hotel room.  When Dean said nothing, Castiel could not look at him, couldn’t see the rejection he was sure would be in those green eyes.  He should have known that his inexperience would be a turn off for the man.

Dean watched the angel’s face, trying to figure out what was going on in his head.  Distress and even a little fear clouded his features.  But he wouldn’t look at Dean, refused to meet his eye.  “Hey,” Dean said softly, tilting the angel’s face to him.  When those blue eyes finally met his, he smiled reassuringly.  “If you don’t want to do this, just let me know.  No big deal.”

Castiel blinked in confusion, “Of course I want to.  I just assumed that my inexperience—”

“There’s nothin’ wrong with being a virgin.  Tell you the truth, it’s fuckin’ hot,” Dean said and to prove his point, he ground his denim-clad erection into Castiel’s groin.  The surprised gasp he received had Dean rolling his hips, wanting to hear more of those enticing sounds.

Any hesitance Castiel had was gone, lost in a whirlwind of heat and desire for the man above him.  He found his body rising up to meet Dean’s, hands moving to slide along the hunter’s chest and abs, enjoying the way the muscles tightened beneath his touch.  It was like he couldn’t get enough of the other man, hands sliding across the warm flesh.

Dean’s fingers returned to the button of Castiel’s pants, deftly unfastening them and sliding pants and boxers down in one swift motion, discarded like the rest of their clothes.  He moaned as his erection was released.  Dean’s hips were between his legs, the rough denim of his pants rubbing against his member.  He leaned down over the angel, meeting his mouth again, biting and sucking as their groins rubbed together.

His fingers carded through Castiel’s dark hair, noting how soft the messy locks were. Castiel clutched at Dean, body rising to meet his thrusts and needing to feel skin against skin.  He broke away from the kiss, lips trailing down the hunter’s neck and tasting the slightly sweaty skin. Dean suddenly pushed away, standing so he could find a bottle of lotion or something, anything.  He returned to Castiel, placing a quick kiss to his swollen lips before he fumbled with the button of his own pants.

“Want you so bad,” Dean growled, pushing his pants down past his hips and freeing his own cock.  He settled between Castiel’s legs, pushing them farther apart. 

Castiel watched with wide eyes as Dean poured the lotion onto his fingers before capping the bottle.  His hands slid smoothly over Castiel’s cock and balls, rubbing and teasing them until they ached.  Castiel keened at the attention, feeling even hotter than he had before, and wanting more. 

Dean watched the angel’s face carefully.  The man’s eyes were shut tight, mouth open with a moan falling from those lush lips, head thrown back and he was clutching at the sheets, lost in the new sensations.  He’d never say it aloud, but the angel was beautiful like that.  Dean carefully brought a finger slicked with lotion to his hole, rubbing the muscle gently before slipping the digit in. 

Castiel tensed and he barely heard Dean murmur comforting words to him.  There was a strange, full sensation that made him squirm as the hunter pushed his finger in deeper, moving it slowly.  He knew that sex between men could be enjoyable.  After all, why would they continue to do so if it weren’t?  But this wasn’t exactly what the angel had been expecting.  It didn’t feel bad, just different.

Dean watched Castiel’s face as he withdrew and grabbed the bottle again, adding more lotion and tossing it aside.  Two fingers pushed in slowly, twisting in ways that caused Castiel to shiver.  Dean suddenly grinned fiercely and he rubbed something inside that made blue eyes widen and his body arch off the bed, calling out the hunter’s name.

Castiel thought he might be in shock, the pleasure was so intense.  Now he could understand how this could be so pleasurable.  He whimpered at the loss as Dean removed his hand and grabbed Castiel’s legs, lifting them and shifting closer.  Dean pressed the head of his cock against the hole, pushing in just slightly.

The angel stiffened and Dean spoke softly, “Shh, just relax.  It’ll feel good in a minute, promise.”

He tried to relax and after a moment, he felt more full and strange than painful as his body adjusted.  Dean leaned over Castiel’s body and he pressed a quick kiss against his forehead before pushing in to the hilt.  Castiel winced at the slight burn as Dean withdrew and thrust again, leaning so that Castiel’s legs were up high and wide.  His erection was rubbing against his stomach with each thrust, still hard and aching.  He reached up, grabbing at Dean’s head again, and tried to pull him down to kiss those full, wide lips and take his mind from the discomfort.  But Dean shifted, angle changing, and the next thrust made the angel gasp at an unexpected shock of pleasure.

“Told ya,” Dean chuckled and let Castiel pull him forward, their mouths meeting in a sloppy kiss.  He kept his hands against Castiel’s legs as he began to thrust into the angel’s body.  Castiel plunged his tongue into Dean’s mouth, refusing to let him go as his body began rocking from the force of Dean's thrusts.  Any trace of pain had disappeared with mind numbing pleasure replacing it, winding itself around Castiel’s erection.  That heat returned full force, tightening into a coil and had Castiel uncertain again.

“D…Dean,” he whimpered, unable to get any other words out.  He moaned when Dean reached forward, grabbing his cock and stroking in time with his thrusts.  The pleasure and heat was overwhelming, too much for Castiel to take in.  He moaned and shuddered, cum spilling over the hunter’s hand as he experienced his first orgasm.

With a hoarse grunt, Dean slammed himself into Castiel’s body so hard that Castiel began to slide up the bed.  He came, Castiel’s tight hole still clutching around his dick and milking him dry.  Dean continued moving slowly, until they drifted down.   He let Castiel’s other leg drop and pulled out of his body, collapsing next to the angel with a sated grin on his face.

“That,” Dean said softly, breath still coming out in heavy pants. “Was fucking worth the wait.”

Castiel hummed in agreement, too tired to even voice his thoughts.  He smiled as Dean rolled closer, throwing his arm over Castiel’s waist.  The angel shivered, scooting in a little closer.  Dean wasn’t a big fan of cuddling and all that post-sex shit, but with Castiel he wanted to, couldn’t explain why.  Or at least, wasn’t quite ready to admit why.

Sam sat down at the bar next to Jo.  He nodded to the bartender and waited for the man to come over.  Jo was drinking from her own draft of beer and Sam ordered the same.  It was slid across the table to him not a minute later and he took it gratefully.  “Did it work?” he asked after taking a long swallow.

Jo hummed thoughtfully.  “Think so.  Shoulda seen it, Sam.  As soon as Cas got up to go with that woman, Dean practically charged them,” she smiled at the picture of a jealous driven hunter storming from the casino.

“And you‘re okay with me bunking with you?  Because I do _not_ want to walk in on them.” Sam frowned at the memory of seeing his brother buck naked a few months back, just after he’d made the demon deal really, and was screwing some random woman he’d met in a bar.  He’d pleaded with Sam to leave him be, it was his dying wish, and Sam had let him.  But when Bobby called with a case, he’d gone in, hoping that by that time Dean was done.

He’d been wrong.  So wrong.

He shook his head, trying to clear away the memory before taking another large gulp of alcohol.

“Sounds good to me.”


	13. Chapter 13

Sam knew, the little bitch.  Dean could see it in his brother’s eyes, the way he looked from Dean to Castiel like he had some giant secret.  He probably wanted to go chat with Jo and gossip while painting their nails or something girly like that. 

Because really, when he’d woken up that morning, he realized there was only one bed in the room.  And his and Castiel’s duffle bags were already in the room, sitting in the corner by the small table.  So that was proof that Sam was in on Jo’s little plan.

“Stop it, Sam,” Dean nearly growled as he gripped the steering wheel.

Sam couldn’t hold back the smirk, “What?”

“You know what.”

“I don’t understand,” Castiel put in his two cents from the back seat.  He leaned forward, resting his arms against the seat as he looked over at Sam, trying to figure out what the younger brother was doing.  Other than the smile on the younger hunter’s face, Castiel could not figure out what was bothering Dean.

“He thinks we’re dating and he wants to talk about it and share his feelings,” Dean grumbled, pointedly not look at either passenger.  He kept both eyes on the road.

“Dating,” Castiel said with that strange lilt to his voice he got when he was thinking or confused.  “You mean a sexual relationship?”  Both brothers choked at the blunt observation.  Before either could respond, however, Castiel turned to Sam, “Yes, your brother and I are dating.”

Dean almost slammed on the brakes.  Almost.  But they were driving down the interstate and there were cars behind him.  “Jesus, Cas.  You don’t just say stuff like that.”

“You shouldn’t take the Christ’s name in vain, Dean,” he replied as though he completely missed what Dean had said otherwise, or just ignored him.

“Honestly,” Sam started, trying to break up the tense moment.  “It’s about time.  I mean, jeez, you guys’ve been making googly eyes at each other long enough.”

Dean sent a glare to his brother.  “Googly eyes?  What the hell are googly eyes?”

“You know, the whole staring thing you guys do.  There’s enough sexual tension, you could take a knife to it.”

Dean kept his mouth shut.  He’d had enough of the conversation.  Eyes on the road, he ignored his passengers and when the silence was too much, he turned the radio up.

 _“…so lend your love to me awhile.  Do with me what you will.  Break the spell, take your fill,”_ the voice of Joe Elliot sang out and Dean had to fight the scoff.  He loved Def Leppard, he did.  But the song hit a little too close to home and he changed the station. 

Sam watched his brother out of the corner of his eye.  He knew the song had gotten to Dean.  He hoped that getting the two to hook up would have solved the whole curse problem.  Obviously it hadn’t quite worked out.  Of course, he knew people had sex without love all the time.  But he had thought that maybe there was more to the strange relationship between his brother and the angel.

Then again, knowing his brother, he wouldn’t admit his feelings unless someone (namely Sam) weaseled it out of him.  And Castiel was still so new to being a human, he probably wouldn’t recognize love if it smacked him in the face.

He sighed and pulled out his phone.

            _Still no luck on D/C._

A few minutes later, the phone buzzed in his hand.  He hadn’t told Jo the exact details, but she knew that Sam was trying to get Dean and Castiel together.

            _srsly? have 2 think of sumthin else_

            _It’ll have to wait.  Got a lead on Bela.  Heading there now._

            _lemme kno if u get her_

_Will do._

Sam shut his phone, shoving it back in his pocket.  He cast his gaze out the window, trying to figure out what to do.  Bobby had called him that morning, saying one of his psychic friends had found Bela.  So they’d showered and ate a quick breakfast before hitting the road, after saying goodbye to Jo.

They’d talked about it, about needing to get the Colt so they could confront the King of the Crossroads.  But this demon sounded pretty damn big.  Bigger than any they’d taken on.  Castiel had to be ten kinds of crazy, as Bobby would say.  Then again, they were facing a possible apocalypse.  Something needed to be done.

And they were the only ones crazy enough to do something about it.

Nearly a day later, they found the room that Bela was supposedly staying in.  No one was inside, which made breaking in easier. Dean headed inside, Sam following.  Castiel waited by the car, in case Bela really was there and decided to sneak out the back.  As Dean was going through the dresser, Sam was breaking the lock on the safe.  Both methods turned up jack shit, so Dean flipped over the mattress, trying to find the Colt to no avail.

The phone rang, then.  Sam glanced to Dean, who was closer to the telephone, giving him a curious look.  Dean frowned and picked up the phone hesitantly.  He didn’t say anything, kept quiet until he heard, “Dean.  Sweetie, you there?”

He couldn’t say it enough times: he hated that woman.  He tried to talk her out of selling the Colt.  Tried to guilt trip her but it didn’t work.  It only made him more pissed off.  But it was only a matter of time before he found her.  He wasn’t going to give up.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t take precautions?”

The door slammed open then and a group of police officers stormed the rooms.  Sam and Dean immediately put their hands up.  They were pushed to the ground, arms brought around their back as the cuffs fit snugly in place.  Dean watched as a pair of shiny, black boots appeared in his line of sight.

“Hi guys.  It’s been awhile.”

The voice was vaguely familiar, Dean knew he’d heard it somewhere before.  Looking up, as well as he could while he was pinned to the ground, he saw Agent Henriksen. 

Son of a bitch.

Castiel waited outside the apartment.  When several white police cars pulled to a stop in front of the building, all with flashing lights, he darted behind a building.  He could still see what was going on, watched as a black man exited the building a few minutes later with Dean and Sam trailing behind, followed by several more police officers.

He returned to the car, opening the glove box.  Dean had said there was a cellphone inside, one he could use it in case of an emergency.  He called Bobby, not knowing what else to do.

“Cas, what’s up?” The older hunter’s voice came from the phone.

He was still new to talking on phones, spoke a little louder than necessary.  “Dean and Sam have been arrested,” he said.

“Don’t talk so loud, idjit.  Where are you?”

In a softer voice, “I’m in the car, behind Bela’s apartment.”

There was a curse, then, “I need you to get out of there.  They find you hangin’ around the Impala, they’ll arrest you too.”

Castiel followed the hunter’s instructions and walked down the alley, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.  He heard someone shout, “Found their car!” and was thankful that he’d called Bobby.

“Now what?”

He listened patiently as he watched from a safe distance.  Dean was loaded into the back of one of the cars, followed by Sam.  A few minutes later, the vehicles pulled away.  Knowing what he needed to do, Castiel thanked Bobby and hung up the phone. 

It was a small town, thankfully, and he found the police station relatively easy.  Once inside, he was directed to a young woman, the secretary.  She had a bright soul and she smiled up at Castiel when he approached.  H noticed the cross on her neck and the rosary lying on her small desk.  “Can I help you?” she asked.

“Yes,” Castiel nodded.  “I have a couple friends here and I would like to post bail?”

The woman frowned, biting her lip nervously, “Could you wait here for just a moment?”

“Of course,” he agreed.  The woman stood and left the small room.  He waited there for a long minute before she returned with the black man he’d seen earlier.

“You want to bail your friends out?” he asked, slightly amused.  “Wouldn’t be the Winchesters, would it?”

And he realized that something was wrong.  Bobby had told him it might not work, but it was the only thing he could do without breaking them out, which was impossible now that FBI agents had them.

“I’ve a few questions for you, if you don’t mind,” the man continued.  But his words were more of a demand and Castiel followed, knowing he was now trapped in the building.  “I’m Agent Henriksen.  Been working the Winchester case for months now,” he said as he led Castiel inside a small room.  There was a single table with two chairs in the center of the room.  Henriksen motioned for Castiel to sit.

He did so, perching on the edge of the seat, back stiff.  He looked around the room, saw a window to his left and a large mirror to his right.

Henriksen never sat down.  He stared at Castiel with intent focus, arms crossed.  He had a nice soul, he was a good man.  Castiel was not afraid of him.  But he needed to figure out how he was going to get Dean and Sam out of there.  Bobby had seemed very worried about them being arrested, more so than working any other case.  “You say you’re a friend of the Winchesters?  Who’re you?”

“Yes,” Castiel intoned seriously, gaze returning to the agent and matching the stare.  “My name is Castiel.”

“And do you know what they’ve done?”

It didn’t matter what the agent believed Dean and Sam had done.  Both brothers had spoke of different cases they’d worked in the past, in the long hours driving around the country, and Castiel had learned a great deal about them.  “They are good men, like you.”

Henriksen couldn’t hold back his laugh.  “That so?”

“It is the truth.”

“Oh?  These boys that are good men,” he sneered the last words before continuing, “have done terrible things.  Dean, for instance, killed several women in cold blood.  His brother, Sam, helped.  They’ve desecrated graves, robbed a bank, all because of some satanic belief in _demons_ and _shapeshifters_.”

“It is the truth,” Castiel reaffirmed.  Dean had briefly mentioned that a shapeshifter had taken his form once.  But he assumed that everything had worked out in the end.  But apparently that was not so, if this agent were still after the two hunters.  “What they have told you, regarding demons and other supernatural creatures, is true.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I am an angel of the Lord.”

There was a long pause as Henriksen took in the words.  Then he shook his head, almost ashamed.  “There’re no such things.  They’ve brainwashed you, Castiel.  If that is your real name.”

“I do not lie.”

Henriksen looked Castiel in the eye, defiantly.  “If you’re an angel, then prove it.”

“I can’t,” he admitted.  “I’m human right now.” 

 “Of course you’re human.  Don’t you get it?  They’ve brainwashed you.  They—”

Before he could get another word out, a scream pierced the air.  Tensing, Henriksen exited the room, making sure it was locked behind him.  Castiel remained sitting.

He could hear some kind of commotion going on outside the room, but no one returned.  He sat there, waiting for Henriksen to come back.  The interrogation hadn’t been going well.  If he were to get Dean and Sam out of the jail, then he would need to convince the FBI agent.   But the man was set in his belief that the Winchesters were evil. 

A coldness crept over him, something dark and terrifying.  He tensed, searching the room but no one was there.  It was just beyond the walls, outside.  Demons.  And not just one, but a small army.  He couldn’t pinpoint how many exactly.

Standing, he moved to the door.  He was about to call out, but the lights went out.  He could hear people arguing outside, but the words were muffled.  “Hello?” he tried.  But when there was no response, he called out louder.

Still nothing.  He paced the room.  He could feel that dense evil approaching, large and foreboding.  Likely, a dozen or more demons were swarming and if that were the case, they stood no chance.  Especially with the few police officers he’d seen on his way to the interrogation room.  They had no weapons that would affect the creatures and it wouldn’t be long before they stormed the police station.  Exorcisms only went so far.

The window to the room burst open, glass shattering and littering the ground as a blonde woman crawled through.  Castiel could tell she was a demon and prepared for an attack.  He may not have a way to trap her, but he could certainly hold his own against her. 

She smiled and approached, “So you’re the angel that’s following the Winchesters like a lost puppy,” she said, looking him over.  “No offense, but I pictured you angels to be more, I dunno, angelic?  But you look pretty damn human to me.”

“Who are you?” Castiel demanded, tensing as the demon stopped only a few feet from him.

She cocked a brow, lips forming a smirk.  “I’m the one who’s going to kill you,” she said and lunged for Castiel, pulling a blade from her belt.  She slashed through the air but Castiel managed to dodge the attack.  He spun on his heel, swinging his leg and tripping the blonde.

The demon recovered, jumping to her feet.  But before she could lunge again, the door swung open.   Sam stood in the doorway, eyes wide.  Dean was close behind.  “Ruby?  Cas?  What the hell is going on?”

Castiel straightened and was about to speak, but Ruby beat him to it.  “I can’t believe you lied to me, Sam.  I mean, you’re supposed to be the good guy.”

Sam looked appalled, “What?”

Ruby motioned to Castiel, “The fucking angel, Sam.  Don’t you realize how dangerous they are?”

Castiel ground his teeth, “This, coming from a demon,” he nearly growled.

“I’m not the one with angels hunting me, am I?”  She narrowed her eyes at the angel.  “And at least they have a chance to kill demons.  But angels, they don’t stand a chance!  So who’s more dangerous, featherhead?”

In any other situation, Dean might have laughed at having an angel and a demon in the same room, bickering like children.  But this was too serious, especially since there was an army of demons swarming outside.  “Knock it off,” Dean demanded.  He turned cold eyes to Ruby, “You try to kill him, I’ll kill you, got it?”

They left the room and Castiel followed the two men from the room before he noticed something.  “Dean, you’re hurt,” he brought a gentle hand to the man’s shoulder, trying to inspect the wound.

“I’ll live,” Dean shrugged off the gesture as he continued walking.  A line formed between the angel’s brows as he watched after the hunter.  He blinked and followed the man, deciding to worry about it later.

They reached Henriksen, who was standing at one of the desks in the main room, looking over blueprints.  A can of spray paint was within reach.  Sam moved to stand opposite of him. “There’s three entrances, not including the windows,” Henriksen pointed out the doors.

“I’ll set demon traps there,” Sam said as he grabbed the paint and took off.  Ruby trailed after him and Dean was glad the demon was out of his sight.  It was becoming increasingly difficult to not just punch the bitch in the face.  Besides, it’s not like they could kill her now, with the Colt gone. 

The secretary approached, “Here’s the first aid kit,” she said as she set it on the desk.  She began tending the gunshot wound as best she could.

“We’re surrounded,” Castiel said softly as he watched Nancy clean the wound.

“I figured as much.  We’re getting out of this,” Dean said with conviction.  Castiel nodded because if it was the last thing he did, he was going to get these people out of there.  He fumbled with the sapphire around his neck idly.  If it came down to it, he’d do it.

“You don’t poke a bear with BB gun,” Dean said when Henriksen and one other cop brought in a load of weapons.  “That’s just gonna make them mad.”

“What do you need?” Henriksen asked.  It was hard for him to give up authority to Dean, the man he’d thought as a criminal and had been hunting for months.

“Salt.  Lots and lots of salt.”

“Salt?” The other cop, Phil, asked with confusion.

“What, is there an echo in here?”

Nancy spoke up quietly, “There’s road salt in the storeroom.”

“Perfect.  We need salt at every window and every door,” Dean informed and the two men moved to do so. 

“This will buy us time,” Castiel said.

“Time’s all we need right now.  Thank you,” Dean told Nancy once she’d finished patching his wound. 

“Sure.”

“Hey, do you know where my car is?”

“It should be in the impound lot out back,” Nancy responded, then frowned, “You’re not going out there, are you?”

“Yeah.  I gotta get something out of my trunk,” Dean answered.

“Dean, no,” Castiel said, a harsh tone to his voice.  “You’re staying here.”

“Cas, this isn’t the time to worry about me.  There’s a bigger picture.”

“You’re hurt, Dean.  Whatever you need, I’ll get it.”

There was a long pause and finally, Dean relented.  He told the angel everything he needed and where it was located.

Castiel darted out the back door, looking about as he made it to the impound lot.  The chain link fence was locked and he used the key that the officer, Phil, had given him.  The Impala was luckily near the front and he headed straight for it.  Carefully opening the trunk, he grabbed a duffle bag and began reaching for everything Dean had mentioned.

Guns, ammunition, holy water, and a few anti-possession charms were shoved inside the bag.  Just as he was closing the trunk, he could feel the evil approaching.  He ran, making his way back to the police building.  The street lights flickered as he went.  He could feel the demons gaining on him and he began sprinting.

Inside, he panted, “They’re coming,” as he stepped over the salt line and shut the door securely.

The windows were suddenly filled with black smoke and the lights flickered.  It went dark, and it seemed like an eternity before the smoke cleared and the lights returned.

Dean took the bag and pulled out the charms, “Everyone, put these on,” he instructed.  When he handed one to Castiel, he shook his head.

“I cannot be possessed,” he explained and Dean nodded thoughtfully.

Though the smoke had cleared, Castiel could still sense the army lurking nearby.  It wasn’t long before they showed themselves.  Through the window, more than a dozen people approached.  The crowd stopped several yards from the building, just standing and waiting. 

Castiel watched from the window while Dean talked with Henriksen about supernatural creatures.  They loaded the guns with salt rounds and the angel couldn’t help but think that there was only one way out of this alive.  And it wasn’t with guns.

“I choose to go down swingin’,” Dean said, a slight smile on his face.  The odds were against them, but if he could save the few people inside, then it would be worth it.  At this point, there wasn’t much left to lose.

“Plus you got nothing to go home to but your brother,” Henriksen added after a moment.

His gaze slid to Castiel then, thinking how wrong Henriksen was.  Granted, what they had wasn’t normal.  As far as he knew, the other night was an ‘in-the-moment’ kind of thing.  They hadn’t really talked about it and there was definitely nothing about love mixed in.  The mark on his chest confirmed that.  He was still cursed.

“Oh, I see,” a grin appeared on the agent’s face.

Dean frowned, “What?”

Before Henriksen could say anything else, Sam and Ruby returned, tossing the empty salt bags on the ground.  Dean looked to the demon curiously. “How many are out there?”

“Thirty at least.  That’s so far,” she responded in a grouchy voice, crossing her arms over her chest.  
  
“Thirty?” Dean said, though he was holding himself back from attacking the demon.  He knew there was something she was trying to get at, but what he didn’t know.  “Thirty hit men all gunning for us.  Who sent them?   That demon you mentioned?  Who is he?”  
  
“Not he.  Her.  Her name is Lilith,” Ruby responded.  
  
“Lilith?”  
  
“And she really, really wants Sam’s intestines on a stick. ‘Guess she sees him as competition.”  
  
“Great,” Dean sighed exasperatedly.  
  
“Whatever, we can talk about that later.  We’ll need the Colt.”  She looked expectantly at Dean.  But when he looked to Sam, she followed his gaze.  When neither brother was eager to produce the weapon, she scoffed.  “Where’s the Colt?”  
  
“It got stolen,” Sam relented, not looking the demon in the face.  
  
“I’m sorry. I must have blood in my ear.  I thought I just heard you say that you were stupid enough to let the Colt get grabbed out of your thick, clumsy, idiotic hands.”  There was no response and she stood up, lips pressed in a tight line.  “Fantastic. This is just peachy.”  She moved to the other side of the room, her back turned.  
  
“Ruby…” Sam tried.  
  
“Shut up,” she said, throwing up her hand to stop him from talking.  She stood there for a long moment, no one saying a word.  “Fine,” she breathed and turned to face the group of humans.  “Since I don’t see that there’s no other any option, there’s one other way I know how to get you out of here alive.”  
  
Dean narrowed his eyes in suspicion.  He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like her answer.  “What’s that?”  
  
“I know a spell.  It’ll vaporize every demon in a one-mile radius.  Myself included.  So, you let the Colt out of your sight and now I have to die.  So next time, be more careful.  How’s that for a dying wish?  
  
He couldn’t figure out what the demon was playing at.  She was willingly giving herself up so that they could live?  Something was going on, but he found himself asking, “Okay, what do we need to do?”  Because if there was a way to get everyone out of there alive, and Ruby would be dead, then he was all for it.  
  
Ruby leered at him.  “Aww, you can’t do anything. This spell is very specific. It calls for a person of virtue.”  
  
Dean nodded his head, “I got virtue.”  
  
She chuckled, “Nice try.  You’re not a virgin.”  
  
Dean laughed bitterly.  Because just a few days ago, Castiel was a virgin.  So much for that plan.  “Nobody’s a virgin.”  
  
Ruby looked from Dean to Nancy.  He followed her gaze, then spotted the secretary, who looked away, her arms crossed over her chest.  
  
“No.  No way.  You’re kidding me.  You’re—”  
  
“What? It’s a choice, okay?”  
  
He shouldn’t be so shocked.  Castiel had been a virgin, until Dean helped him with that little problem.  But the guy was an angel, so it came with the territory.  At least, he supposed it did.  Castiel had said the angels were allowed to have sex, even though the guy never took up the opportunity.  He wondered why briefly before Nancy continued.  
  
“So, this spell. What can I do?” Nancy asked with a small smile.  
  
Ruby cocked a grin and approached the young woman, “You can hold still while I cut your heart out of your chest.”  
  
“What?” she gasped, taking a step back.  
  
“What? Are you crazy?” Dean accused.  He should have known it’d been too good to be true.  
  
Ruby scowled as she turned to look at the older Winchester.  “I’m offering a solution.”  
  
“You’re offering to kill somebody,” Dean interjected angrily.  
  
Ruby and Dean continued to bicker while Castiel listened.  He had no idea if Ruby’s spell would work, and it also required Nancy to sacrifice herself.  He brought a hand to the sapphire, thinking.  He knew his way would work, leaving no one dead.  But should he do it, then his brothers would be able to find him.  
  
His mission to save the Righteous Man, to get Gabriel to come back home, would be over.  
  
He looked to Dean, who was so intent on finding a different way to save everyone there, one that didn’t involve sacrificing Nancy.  His soul flared brightly with his conviction and the angel smiled softly.  
  
Castiel had made up his mind.  “Dean?”  Once he had everyone’s attention, he continued.  “I need to speak with you.”  
  
The two moved into the hallway, where the others couldn’t hear.  “Cas, don’t tell me you’re buying that bullshit.  We’re not sacrificing any virgins!”  
  
“No, I disagree with Ruby’s plan.”  
  
“Thank you,” Dean mouthed in relief.  
  
He pulled the necklace off then, holding it up for the hunter to see.  It glowed faintly in the dim light of the hallway.  “This has the power to kill demons, much more effectively than any weapon or spell that the demon could come up with.”  
  
“Great, but Cas, isn’t that your grace?”  Dean’s brows furrowed as he searched the angel’s face for answers.  That grace was like his soul, wasn’t it?  
  
Castiel nodded solemnly.  “Right now, it is essentially useless.  But if I merge with it, I will become an angel again.  I will have the power to obliterate any demon in the nearby vicinity.”  
  
Dean pressed his lips together.  The plan seemed great, but Castiel looked so reluctant about it that there had to be some kind of drawback.  “What’s the catch?”  
  
“My brothers will sense my return.”  
  
He didn’t need to say anything else.  Dean understood the implications.  His own family would hunt him down, and if they were anything like Zachariah, then the angel would be in some serious shit.  “Then no deal.”  
  
“Dean—” Castiel tried, but the hunter cut him off.  
  
“We’ll find some other way.”  
  
“No, Dean.  Let me do this.  Let me save you and everyone here,” he pleaded.  Because he could do this one thing for the hunter.  He turned from Dean then, heading back in to the main room to discuss his plan with everyone.  
  
Ruby scoffed at the angel’s plan.  “If that’s the case, I’m outta here.”  
  
“You’re just leaving?” Dean demanded.  
  
“I offered my life for you and you threw it in my face.  You do this, I’m not sticking around,” she said then looked away.  “You mind letting me out?”  
  
They watched her go from the window.  Why they let her leave, Dean didn’t know.  They had the chance to kill her, to be rid of her for good, especially since they now knew who the new big-shot demon was.  Part of him still hoped that the curse would be broken if Ruby was dead.  But the bigger part knew that wouldn’t be likely and he was tired of drawing the short end of the stick.  
  
None of the demons standing outside made a move for Ruby as she walked through the crowd.  Several long minutes passed and Castiel nodded.  “Let them in.”  
  
The seals were damaged, the salt lines broken.  In a matter of minutes, the central room of the building was swarmed with demons.  Henriksen, Phil, Nancy, Sam and Dean stood with guns aimed and hitting their marks.  But the demons kept coming and it was a downhill battle.  
  
Castiel gripped the sapphire tightly between his fingers until it cracked.  A blue mist poured from the crack and swarmed his body in a rush.  “Shut your eyes,” he yelled as a sudden pain ripped through him.  He screamed, thousands of needles piercing his skin, and fell to the floor.  He didn’t know how long the pain lasted, pulsing through his body like a too-hot heat.  
  
  
  
The pain ebbed and the heat died down to a gentle warmth.  Standing, he felt lighter than he had in months.  And his wings!  He stretched them as far as they could go in the room, primary feathers brushing the walls.  It felt good to have them back and he hadn’t realized how weak he truly had been as a human.  
  
“Cas?” Dean’s voice broke through his reverie and he turned to find the hunter staring at him in awe, gun lowered for a moment.  
  
Dean knew Castiel was an angel.  But actually seeing the white wings sprout from the man’s back, larger than he’d imagined, was something altogether different.  He was an angel.  He hadn’t really believed it until now.  
  
A ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of Castiel’s mouth before he began attacking the demons.  One by one, they dropped as he placed a hand to their faces, ending their lives and the human bodies fell limp to the floor, unconscious.  
  
This was what he’d been created for, fighting demons and other evil creatures that threatened Heaven.  He made quick work of the small army, the demons completely unprepared for the sudden assault.  In mere minutes, all the demons were dead and the humans were safe.  Dean was safe.  
  
He approached the hunter then, drawing in his wings and folding them tightly against his back.  Pressing his fingertips to the man’s forehead, he healed the bullet wound.  
  
Dean’s eyes widened at the sensation.  It almost tickled and then there was nothing.  But he couldn’t find the words to thank him.  He wanted to say something, but his throat wouldn’t work.  
  
“You weren’t kidding,” Henriksen commented beside him, eyes wide and staring at the giant, white appendages behind Castiel’s back.  
  
He nodded, acknowledging the man’s words but gaze never leaving Dean’s.  “I must leave.  Zachariah will have sensed me,” Castiel admitted almost sadly.  If he didn’t leave, then Zachariah would likely find him with the Winchesters and he didn’t want them involved.  They would be used against him and he couldn’t risk that.  
  
Dean frowned, wanted to say that he could stay.  That he wanted Castiel to stay and not leave.  But it was selfish.  They guy—angel—just exposed himself just so he could save his ass.  Like a true Winchester, he thought bitterly.  
  
And in the blink of an eye, Castiel was gone, the sound of rustling feathers lingering in his mind.


	14. Chapter 14

He found himself in that beautiful room again.  But this time, he was alone.  He knew Joshua would never arrive, saying that everything would work out because God commanded it.  No, Castiel was waiting for Zachariah.  His brother would arrive eventually and it was unlikely that Castiel would leave the room alive.  
  
He stretched his wings and tried to exit the room.  But the moment his wings were fully extended, something snapped them back in place.  He could not move them, was restrained and trapped in the room.  
  
Standing there, he thought of his time as a human.  Hours, even days may have passed as he waited.  But he was unable to feel the effects of time.  It slipped by him like water through cupped hands.  
  
Unavoidable.  
  
Were he human still, hunger and thirst would have alerted him to how much time has passed.  But his humanity was gone.  He was an angel once again.  
  
He thought he would relish having his Grace returned to him.  And he did, a little.  He longed to stretch out his wings, now that they were back.  But once again his thoughts strayed to his humanity.  
  
He missed the sensations, the emotions that came readily to him before.  Now, it was as though there was a damn keeping them back.  He rolled up his sleeve and saw the clean flesh there.  It was as though he’d never been human, as though he never met Dean and Sam and Bobby.  
  
But he remembered.  He knew he would never forget them for as long as he lived.  Even if it was only for a while longer.  
  
“Hello, Castiel,” a deeper voice broke through his thoughts.  He spun around, eyes locking on the older angel.  As he turned, the room changed.  The walls warped until they were steel, a single light dangling from the ceiling and lighting the room.  
  
Raphael stood against the far wall, face impassive as he expected.  Every one of his brothers and sisters that had met Raphael had told him of the archangel’s aloof expression.  He waved his hand and suddenly Castiel was being pulled backwards and down, until he was confined to a chair.  The older angel approached, arms behind his back.  
  
The only real surprise of the situation was that Raphael was the one confronting him.  He’d expected Zachariah to be here, questioning him.  Not Raphael.  Castiel had never met the archangel, had been too low in rank.  
  
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Castiel,” he stopped just a few feet from Castiel.  “Zachariah mentioned your… pets.  Where are they?”  
  
“They have no part in this,” Castiel ground out, gaze never leaving his brother.  “I merely used them.”  It was a lie and a feeble one at that.  But he was determined to keep them from the archangel’s scrutiny.  
  
Raphael hummed, “Of course you did.  And what was it that you used them for?”  Castiel didn’t respond, kept his mouth shut.  Raphael continued,   “See, I have an idea.”  He turned around, his back to Castiel, and walked away.  “I think that you were trying to find Gabriel so you could stop the Apocalypse.”  
  
The sound of Raphael’s footsteps was loud.  They echoed off the walls, filling the small room with their ominous resonance.  Castiel kept his gaze on his brother, never letting the other angel out of his sight.  He expected the worst, but would not be caught off guard.  
  
“Well, Castiel.  Am I right?” Raphael asked as he turned to face Castiel.  When he received no response, the older angel frowned and pulled out a blade.  It was silver, shining when the dim light caught its glare.  “You had those mudmonkeys help you out.  Being human is harder than you thought.”  
  
He stood only inches away, leaning over so he could keep eye contact with Castiel.  Raphael stared for a long minute, then the briefest look of understanding crossed his eyes before returning to a neutral expression.  “You slept with one of them, didn’t you?”  He scoffed and stood fully.  “Oh, this is just too good!”  
  
With that, he brought the sword down, embedding it in Castiel’s forearm and leaving the weapon there.  Castiel grunted in pain, but this was nothing.  He’d been trained to withstand torture as an angel.  This, he knew.  
  
When Raphael pulled the blade from his arm, the wound had an ethereal glow to it as his Grace tried to heal the damage.  But it would take far longer to heal than any other wound.  The angel blade restricted his Grace momentarily.  It was the only weapon that could kill an angel because of the side effect.  
  
“I thought about killing you,” Raphael commented as he wiped the blood from his blade.  He turned a sharp eye to the younger angel and Castiel could see there was something wrong with him.  Something dark and tormented.  “But a quick death is too good for you.”

ooooo  
  
Dean grit his teeth as he climbed up the stairs, Ruby’s knife in hand and Sam following behind.  He’d let her get the upper hand so he could steal the weapon and trap her, and it had worked perfectly.  He shook his head at her angry screams.  
  
“I wish I could be there to watch you scream!” she was rambling and Dean had to admit, she stuck to her lie rather convincingly.  Because he knew that if this didn’t work out, she would be there, doing everything she just described and more.  
  
But at least now they had some kind of idea as to what she’d been after.  She wanted Sam to use his psychic abilities, ones given to him from Yellow-Eyes, and that was not going to happen.  
  
They stood outside the cul-de-sac in New Harmony, just him, Sam, and Bobby.  The older hunter had managed to pinpoint Lilith’s location and thanks to Ruby, much to Dean’s chagrin, they had a way to kill her with the stolen dagger.  If they could get her, the demon who held his contract, then maybe, maybe he wouldn’t go to hell.  
  
But time was running out.  He could literally see the demons’ real faces behind their meatsuit.  Downright disturbing and not at all how he had pictured a demon to look.  And nearly everyone in the neighborhood was possessed.  
  
Bobby took off, now that their plan was set.  
  
Killing the demon in the mailman was easier than he thought it would be.  The old man went down easy too, thankfully.  They were about to head inside, once Bobby gave the signal, but he suddenly found himself pressed against a fence, cold metal harsh against his face.  
  
“I’d like my knife back, please.  Or your neck snaps like a chicken bone,” Ruby threatened, tightening her grip on the back of his neck.  
  
Before she could do anything further, Sam appeared, knife at her neck.  “He doesn’t have it.”  
  
She backed off, letting go of Dean.  Dean gasped for breath, turning to face the blonde bitch, “How the hell’d you get out?”  That was when he noticed it, her true face.  He grimaced, “You are one ugly broad.”  He could barely stand to look at her.  
  
Ruby scoffed and focused her attention on Sam, “Give me the knife.”  
  
“You’ll get it when it’s over,” Sam lied rather convincingly.  Because there was no way he was giving the weapon back to the demon.  
  
“It’s already over.  I gave you a way to save Dean and you shot me down.  Now it’s too late, he’s dead.  And I’m not going to let you die too.”  
  
Sam’s grip tightened on the blade.  Before he could do anything else, Dean silenced them.  “Look,” he nodded towards the people that were standing on their doorsteps.  There were nearly a dozen demons.  “So much for the element of surprise.”  
  
They rushed from their spot and hurried towards the house where Lilith was staying.  The demons were closing in on them, but the sprinklers turned on then, spraying the demons.  They screamed in pain, stopping their chase.  “Way to go, Bobby!” Dean cheered as the door finally gave in and they rushed inside.  
  
Sam headed upstairs, where the man said his daughter was, while Dean took care of him.  Ruby took off in one direction, while Sam took the other.  Pushing the door open, he found the mother, with the little girl asleep in her arms.  The woman look terrified, and when Sam approached with the knife, she whispered, “Do it!”  
  
The little girl shifted, but Sam froze.  He knew the demon was in a little girl, but how was he supposed to kill her?  She was just a kid!  She shifted again and finally woke, spotting him with the knife hovering above her.  She screamed and just as Sam was about to plunge the knife, Dean stopped him.  
  
“It’s not her!  Demon’s not in her anymore,” he explained.  
  
Sam sighed with relief.  But it didn’t last long.  Because Lilith had vanished, and now they were screwed.  There were still a dozen demons outside, waiting just beyond the sprinklers.  
  
They escorted the mother and daughter downstairs, to the father who was still unconscious.  They were safe for now, but they needed to think of something, fast.  
  
“What do I need to do?” Sam turned to Ruby, pleading.  He knew she was an evil bitch, but if it was the only way to save his brother, then he had to take that chance.  
  
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Dean demanded as he stopped right behind Sam.  
  
“Just shut up for a second,” Sam hushed his brother and caught Ruby’s gaze.  He needed to do this, needed to save Dean.  
  
“You had your chance,” Ruby sneered.  “You can’t just flip a switch.  We needed time.”  
  
“Well there’s got to be something.  Whatever it is, I’ll do it.” Frowning, Dean grabbed his brother, turning him to face him.  Sam protested, “I’m not letting you go to hell!”  
  
“Yes you are!” Dean yelled, breathing heavily.  Because it was over.  It was too late.  He was going to hell and there was nothing that could be done about it.  Looking at his brother, he felt his resolve crumbling.  God, he was going to die and Sam would be stuck here all alone.  “I’m sorry.”  
  
His voice cracked when he said, “What am I supposed to do?”  
  
He felt tears stinging his eyes, but didn’t care.  Sam had tears streaking down his face already and Dean couldn’t hold them his own back.  It was choking him.  “Keep fighting.  And if you ever see Cas, tell him—”  
  
But before he could finish that train of thought, a howl pierced the air.  It sent shivers down his spine and he paled.  He glanced to his right, where the sound had come from, knowing he was the only one who could hear, and see, the hellhounds.  
  
It was a monstrous beast, like an overgrown Rottweiler, with rows of teeth like a shark.  It snarled at him, drool dripping from its mouth as it barred its fangs.  “Where is it?” Sam asked softly, sniffing to clear his nose.  
  
“There,” Dean nodded his head slightly.  He took a deep breath, trying to calm his fears to no avail.  Instead,   “Run!”  
  
They ran from the living room, through the house and bared the doors.  But everything was in vain because that hellhound would follow him wherever he went.  Dean knew.  But he was desperate, running on pure instinct.  Adrenaline was pumping through him as he poured the goober dust along the doorway and windows.  It was a temporary fix, but it gave him time to think.  
  
He glanced at Ruby, who was trying to convince Sam to give him the knife so she could fight the hellhound.  He froze.  There was something different about her demonic face.  “Wait!” he shouted just as Sam was about to hand over the knife.  
  
“You want to die?” Ruby glared at him, almost surprised.  
  
“Sam, that’s not Ruby,” he said quickly.  
  
Before Sam could bring the knife down on her, the demon retaliated, sending Sam flying into the wall, the blade falling to the floor.  She pinned him there, then trapped Dean on the desk.  He gasped as he tried to struggle against the invisible bonds.  “How long have you been in her?”  
  
“Not long,” the demon said, her tone different than before.  Almost child-like.  “But I like it.  It’s all grown-up and pretty.”  Her eyes turned white, unlike anything Dean had ever seen before and the look sent chills down his spine.  
  
“You’ve got me.  Now let my brother go,” Sam demanded.  
  
“Silly goose.  If you want to bargain, you have to have something that I want.”  Lilith shook her head, a smirk appearing on her lips.  “You don’t.”  
  
She turned her gaze to Dean then, the smirk still on her lips.  She moved away from Sam and to the door, opening it and brushing away the line of goober dust.  “Sic em, boy,” she said in a sing-song voice.  
  
Dean gulped, could see the beast behind Lilith, ready to charge.  Lilith laughed as it attacked and Dean screamed.  It tore into his flesh and the pain was unlike anything he’d ever faced.  Worse than getting shot or stabbed, times a million.  
  
But it didn’t last long.  He blacked out, unable to feel any longer.  But he could still hear Sam yelling, voice breaking.  He sounded distorted and he couldn’t make out the words.  Another voice joined his, one that was familiar and comforting.  “Have faith in me.  Pray for me, Dean,” it said and that was the last he heard.

ooooo  
  
Castiel was tired and that was a bad sign.  Angels weren’t meant to feel fatigue, they were immortal.  He could feel the blood dripping down his face, his arms, his chest, everywhere.  Some of the wounds were deep enough that his Grace was shining through, trying desperately to heal.  But he couldn’t.  Raphael insisted on using the angel sword to torture him.  Panting, he caught the archangel’s eye.  
  
“I am not a traitor,” he spat angrily, mustering as much strength as he could into the words.  It was a mantra, had told the archangel countless times.  But every time only succeeded in another cut or stab wound to decorate his flesh.  
  
As weak as the words were, Raphael’s brown eyes narrowed to slits and he raised the blade, “You little piece of—”  
  
Before he could bring the blade down, a voice called out to him.  “Hey Raphael.  Long time no see,” the voice was light and cheerful, and Raphael froze in his tracks.  He turned around slowly, spotting Gabriel standing a few feet behind him, a big grin on his face.  
  
“Gabriel,” he said in surprise, lowering his blade.  “Everyone thought you were—”  
  
“Dead, I know.  But see, I have a problem.  One of our brothers, who happens to be my favorite, I’m not gonna lie, went missing.  You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”  
  
“You have no business here, Gabriel,” Raphael intoned but Gabriel only snapped his fingers.  The archangel disappeared in the blink of an eye.  
  
Gabriel’s gaze shifted to his younger brother.  There was sadness in his eyes as he took in the wounds covering him.  But Gabriel smiled, said in a gentle voice, “Heya, Cassy,” as he approached.  He squatted down to be eye level with his brother.  
  
Castiel’s eyes were slightly dazed from the pain, unfocused.  But his gaze trained on his older brother.  “What…” his voice trailed off as he began coughing.  Blood stained his lips.  
  
“Had a change of heart, I suppose,” Gabriel answered the unasked question.  “Raphael’s been sent home.  You mind?”  
  
Castiel didn’t understand what his brother meant, until he saw the raised hand, just inches from his forehead.  He shook his head, almost immediately wishing he hadn’t after the wave of nausea hit him.  
  
The moment Gabriel touched his little brother’s forehead, most of the wounds healed and the deeper ones began stitching themselves together, albeit much slower.  “You should be good to go in a few minutes.  I’d recommend not operating any heavy machinery,” Gabriel grinned at the blank look he received.  “No flying just yet.”  
  
“You’re returning to Heaven?” Castiel asked, hope in his voice and eyes searching his brother’s face for an answer.  
  
“Not just yet,” Gabriel pointed his finger.  “See, you haven’t held up your end of the bargain.  And, you’re running out of time.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“You still haven’t figured it out?” Gabriel asked, eyes widened in surprise.  “Sheesh, I thought that was why Raphael angelnapped you.”  
  
“There was a situation that required me to access my Grace.  He sensed it and brought me here,” Castiel explained.  
  
Gabriel shook his head, sighing dramatically.  “I’ll give you a hint: his name starts with D and ends in –ean.  Comprende?”  
  
Castiel frowned before he realized what his brother was saying.  “Dean?”  It made sense, now that he took the time to think about it.  Dean had a bright soul, the brightest for a human that he’d ever seen.  He was always fighting to save people, doing his best to do what was right, regardless of rules or expectations.  
  
And he had made a deal with a demon.  
  
“Bingo!” Gabriel cheered.  
  
How could he have overlooked that?  But Castiel didn’t have time to think about it.  He needed to get to Dean, to purify the man’s soul of the contract.  The sooner, the better.  
  
He closed his eyes, ignoring his brother and trying to find the hunter.  It was done in vain, he realized, because Gabriel had carved sigils into their chests.  He thought of the most likely place they would be and took flight.  
  
Landing was difficult, his wounds were still healing and his aim was off.  He felt disoriented when his feet touched the ground, nearly a hundred yards from his intended location.  Castiel shrugged it off, darting towards the house.  
  
He wanted to curse his luck, because the angel wards were still on Bobby’s house.  But the Impala was nowhere to be found and he knew that this wasn’t the right place.  Closing his eyes, he sucked in a breath before letting it out slowly.  If they weren’t here, they were likely on a hunt.  
  
Castiel could feel an immense accumulation of evil, of demons, gathered to one area.  He spread his wings, hoping this would take him to Dean.  His feet touched the ground, much more graceful now that his wounds were finally healing completely.  A grumbled curse caught his attention, followed by someone calling his name.  “Cas?”  
  
Castiel turned to find Bobby and nearly sighed with relief.  “Bobby, where is Dean?” he nearly demanded, the desperation seeping into his voice.  
  
Bobby thought nothing of tone as he pointed towards the house that the brothers were inside.  “But there’s demons everywhere,” he added as Castiel began moving.  
  
Castiel made his way towards the house and at first, the demons standing on the streets paid him no attention.  But one of them sensed his presence and they all swarmed to him.  He made quick work of the lesser demons, had no time to waste.  He didn’t even bother using his angel sword, smiting the demons with the touch of his hand.  
  
He froze when a howl pierced the air, followed by a scream.  Castiel dropped the demon’s limp body and flew to Dean.  
  
There was something different about Ruby.  Castiel realized that another demon possessed the body and it was staring in shock at Sam.  The hunter picked up a blade and moved to kill the demon, but she screamed and black smoke began pouring from her mouth.  Castiel reacted, pressing his hand into the smoke and forcing it back inside the body, holding her mouth shut.  
  
She was stronger, much stronger than the other demons he had fought and it was difficult to smite her.  But he won out and the body flashed orange before falling to the floor.  
  
“It’s too late,” Sam whispered as he collapsed to the ground.  Tears were pouring down his face as he pulled a bloody Dean to him.  
  
Castiel watched, numbly.  The voice of his brothers, of Michael, echoed in his mind.  Telling him to return home, that it was over.  Lilith was dead and the plan to release Lucifer had been foiled.  
  
But Dean’s lifeless body stared back at him and Castiel felt his chest tightening.  He remembered every moment spent with the hunter, everything the man had done for him, regardless of how dangerous or hopeless it seemed.  
  
And he knew he couldn’t return home.  He would not give up.  He couldn’t have come this far, only to fail Dean now.  
  
Castiel kneeled opposite of Sam and placed two fingers to the hunter’s forehead.  The wounds healed as though he was never attacked by a Hellhound.  But the soul was still gone.  “Sam, you need to follow my orders carefully,” he said, earning the young hunter’s attention.  “Get Dean to somewhere that can take care of him.”  
  
Wide, hazel eyes stared in shock before staring down at his brother, mouth hanging open.  “He’s alive?” he whispered, noticing the subtle rise and fall of his brother’s chest.  
  
“His soul is trapped.  I must save him,” Castiel said.  He knew what needed to be done.    “Dean, if you can hear me, I need you to have faith in me.  Pray for me, Dean.”


	15. Chapter 15

Sam crouched down to retrieve the foam cup of coffee from the vending machine.  Wasn’t the best, but he needed something to pick him up.  He let the cup warm his hand before he moved away from the machine.  The hallways were white, typical of any hospital he’d ever been in, and nurses were chatting away, discussing different patients or the latest gossip for all he knew or cared.  
  
He stopped outside room 201.  It was a corner room, a little bigger than all the other one-patient rooms, and had two sets of windows that looked over the parking lot to the north and a small terrace to the east.  But that wasn’t what had Sam’s attention.  
  
His brother was lying in the single bed, hooked up to a thousand different machines that Sam had no name for.  A slow and steady beeping followed Dean’s heart rate, let him know that he was alive, though in a coma.  He’d driven eight hours through the night to make it here, once Castiel had told him Dean was alive.  It was a good thing that Dr. Garrison was still grateful for their help with his daughter all those months ago.  Otherwise, Sam would have had to take Dean somewhere else, where the doctors would ask too many questions.  
  
It’d been three days.  Three long and restless days since Dean’s deal came due.  And Sam still hadn’t left his brother’s side for longer than it took to grab a quick meal or use the restroom. He slumped in the seat beside the hospital bed, took a sip of the hot coffee.  He grimaced at the taste and set it on the little nightstand.  
  
Looking at Dean now, no one would ever suspect he’d been a hellhound’s chew toy.  Castiel had done a great job healing the injuries.  
  
He closed his eyes, memories returning vividly.  
  
Lilith had tried to kill the hunter, but when her attack did nothing, she stared in shock at Sam.  Castiel had appeared then, out of nowhere with the sound of fluttering wings.  They were hidden, but Sam knew they were there.  Had seen the white appendages when he’d saved them several months ago from that demon army.  
  
With the angel an arm’s length away, he felt a spike of confidence shoot through him and raised Ruby’s dagger, ready to kill Lilith.  But she fled the body in a cloud of smoke.  
  
Castiel moved faster than Sam could see and in a matter of seconds, had forced the demon back into the body with his bare hand.  Holding his palm over the demon’s mouth, it glowed faintly blue and the demon burned orange, falling lifeless to the ground.  
  
Sam collapsed to the ground, pulling Dean to his body.  He knew he was sobbing, knew it was too late.  He wanted to hate Castiel for not showing up sooner, for being gone for so long.  But looking in Castiel’s sullen, blue eyes, he couldn’t find it in him to hate the angel.  
  
Especially when he healed Dean’s body, instructing Sam to protect the comatose hunter.  “Where are you going?” Sam choked out, barely above a whisper.  He knew the answer, though, and Castiel remained quiet.  He could see determination in the angel’s eyes that wasn’t there a moment ago.  
  
He opened his eyes, realizing he’d fallen asleep.  Glancing at the clock, it’d only been an hour or so.  But Dean still hadn’t changed.  He was still in a coma.  
  
Sam sighed.  
  
“How’s it going, Sammy?” a familiar voice had him starting in his chair.  Sam scanned the room, spotted Gabriel sitting in the window with his legs crossed underneath him.  He had a bowl of popcorn in his lap and was munching loudly on the snack.  
  
“What’re you doing here?”  He found he didn’t have the energy to be angry with the ex-trickster.  He decided that was a good thing, because the guy was an archangel after all.  Could probably kill him with a snap of his fingers.  
  
Gabriel frowned at the sullen expression on the hunter’s face.  “Came to check on Dean-o.  Guess Cassy hasn’t made it back yet,” he said thoughtfully before taking another bite.  “You know what this needs?”  
  
“I haven’t a clue,” Sam sighed and slumped back in his chair.  
  
Gabriel hummed, “Maybe butter.”  He snapped his fingers and a bowl of melted butter appeared in his hand.  He poured a ridiculous amount over the popcorn before waving away the remnants.  “Much better!”  
  
Sam watched the angel chew loudly on the snack, grimacing at the obscene amount of butter.  After a moment, he asked, “Why do you care?”  
  
Gabriel wiped his hands on a napkin, then snapped his fingers.  The bowl and napkin disappeared and he hopped off the window seat.  “Me and Cassy made a deal.  He saves the Righteous Man, I go back to Heaven.  Although, it’s kind of a moot point now that Lilith’s dead.  Couldn’t free Lucifer even if all the other seals break.”  
  
“Dean’s the Righteous Man?” Sam said with wide eyes, leaning forward in the uncomfortable chair.  
  
“You betcha.  Kinda surprised myself, really.  But hey, he’s a good guy.  Don’t let him know I said that,” Gabriel added quickly, waving a finger at Sam.  
  
“So that’s why Castiel came back,” he mumbled, leaning back in his chair and looking at the ceiling.  “To finish the mission.”  He couldn’t help the disappointment that hit him.  
  
Gabriel pursed his lips then peered into Sam’s mind.  He nearly laughed, “I get it now.”  
  
Sam jerked forward, snapping his attention to the archangel. “What?”  
  
He shook his head, smirk on his face.  “He did come back to finish the mission.  But the moment he killed Lilith, saving the Righteous Man was no longer a priority.”  
  
“Why?” Sam’s eyes widened in surprise.  
  
Gabriel rolled his eyes before quoting, “The first demon shall be the last seal.”  
  
“Lilith was the first demon?”  
  
“Bingo!  Glad to see your brain’s still working after all,” Gabriel grinned and Sam glared at the archangel.  
  
Sam turned his attention to his brother, a soft smile on his face.  Castiel was still willing to save Dean, even though he no longer needed to.  He wanted to laugh, but instead, “They’re kinda oblivious, huh?”  
  
Gabriel grinned.

ooooo  
  
Castiel paused outside the Gates of Hell.  One of his brothers stood guard, looking almost human as he leaned against the iron that separated Hell from the rest of the world.  “Had a feeling you’d come,” the angel said as he spotted Castiel.  “Nice to see you, Cassy,” he grinned.  
  
“Balthazar, it is good to see you as well,” Castiel responded.  
  
“It’s a shame I can’t let you through.”  Before Castiel could argue, his brother continued with a smirk on his face, “But if I happened to look over there,” he pointed to somewhere in the distance, “and didn’t see you go in, they’d be none the wiser.”  
  
Castiel nodded, knowing his brother was risking much for him.  “Thank you, Balthazar.”  
  
“Don’t thank me just yet, Cassy.  You’ve got ten years to find him and that’s pushing it.”  
  
He thanked his brother again before approaching the gate.  He’d once stood guard here, hundreds of years ago.  That was before his reassignment, and he’d been so grateful to leave.  Angels weren’t supposed to know fear, but guarding the gates was ominous.  The piercing screams and cries of damned souls was jarring.  
  
Of course, there were small gates stationed on earth, like the Devil’s Gate in South Dakota.  But this one was immense in its size.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Castiel pushed forward.  
  
Ten years in hell was equivalent to one month on earth.  It wasn’t much time and Castiel hurried, trying to force out the sounds of screams and focus on the one voice he wanted to hear.  He hoped that Dean had heard his plea.  Finding a specific soul in hell was like finding a needle in a haystack the size of Canada.  
  
“You’re not s’posed to be here,” a demon drawled from behind him.  Castiel silenced the creature before it could raise the alarm, angel blade piercing through its chin and emerging through the back of its skull.  
  
He wove in an out of the chains, trying to avoid souls that called out to him, begging the angel to save them.  Thunder stormed in the distance, dim light flashing and catching on the chains.  He was grateful to have his wings back, and even though he’d been out of practice, he was still an excellent flier, agile as ever.  
  
“Intruder!” someone screamed and Castiel spun in midflight, preparing himself for battle.  He focused his Grace to his palm, summoning his angel sword again and spinning just as a demon lunged for him.  He stabbed the thing in the neck, killing it.  
  
For every demon he killed, five replaced it.  At this rate, he would never find Dean.  He’d already spent too much time fighting the demons, he needed to hurry.  Needed to get to the hunter.  
  
“Cas,” a weak voice reached his ears.  But he couldn’t see Dean anywhere.  He realized it was a prayer.  Surging forward, he flew past a dozen demons, striking down as many as he could.  He had to keep moving.  If he stopped, they’d swarm him.  He was faster, could easily outfly them.  But they kept coming, kept gaining on him.  
  
He didn’t tire, however.  Didn’t let his body wear out.  He couldn’t.  The thought that he was getting closer to Dean spurred him onward, renewed his strength.  If it was the last thing he did, he would save the hunter.  The fact that darkness was seeping into his feathers, the shafts turning black, a stark contrast against the white, spurred him on.  He needed to hurry.

ooooo  
  
Dean screamed as a large hook caught him by the shoulder.  Every day, it was the same.  The hooks would pierce his flesh before stretching him until he felt his body tear at the seams.  Then Ruby, Rossa, would appear, a snarl on her lips.  
  
This was where it would change.  Some days she would take a knife to his skin, peeling it painstakingly slowly, enjoying the sound of his screams.  Other days she would burn him, his skin blackening and the smell was so strong he would gag.  But he couldn’t pass out, was always awake for every tiny detail.  
  
“Hello, Dean,” she greeted.  He groaned but said nothing.  Rossa pouted, “You’re supposed to say ‘Hello, Rossa’,” and reached for a saw.  Dean was pinned by the chains, body too weak to put up a fight when she pressed the rusted blade to his wrist.  
  
He screamed when the jagged teeth cut into his flesh.  Tried to think of something else to block out the pain.  Sometimes his thoughts, his memories, were the only thing that kept him sane.  Sam was alive.  Bobby was alive.  Cas was…  He didn’t know, hadn’t seen the angel in what felt like months, maybe even years.  He didn’t know how long he’d been here.  
  
“Pray for me.”  He remembered hearing at some point before all this.  But couldn’t remember if that was just a hallucination or if it had been real.  But he had nothing to lose.  “Cas,” he ground out.  
  
Rossa frowned, “No, that’s not what I said.”  
  
She proceeded up his arm, taking her time.  Dean’s throat felt raw from screaming so much, but knew in a few hours, he’d be whole again.  Just in time to start all over.  Cas, where are you? he thought through a haze of pain.  
  
“Your angel isn’t coming,” Rossa said as she set the handsaw down.  She reached for another tool, inspected it, then set it down.  “He’s dead.  Matter of fact, Lilith killed him.”  
  
“No,” Dean groaned, not believing her.  
  
But the days stretched out and every day, she would give him a new detail on how Castiel had been killed.  
  
“Ripped his wings off,” Rossa was saying as she reached for the blade.  It was her favorite tool, she loved to carve her name into Dean’s flesh.  “He begged for his life.”  Dean shook his head, unable to speak without screaming.  “Oh, yes.  I only wish I could have seen it.  They say that when you kill an angel, their wings burn into the ground around them.  Hmm,” she held the blade above the hunter’s abdomen thoughtfully.  
  
“I imagine it would look like this,” she said before carving a pair of wings into his flesh.  
  
Every day seemed to grow longer and every day her lies seemed more like truth.  Castiel was dead.  And Dean was stuck in hell, destined to become some crazed demon.  It was only a matter of time.  
  
When talking about Castiel’s death didn’t seem to faze the hunter, Rossa changed her tactics.  Instead, she spoke of how she had planned to turn Sam.  That Lilith was the final seal to release Lucifer.  How she was going to convince Sam to kill Lilith, which would free Lucifer.  “The first demon shall be the last seal,” she explained as she examined her tools.  “Imagine the look on Sammy’s face when he realized he’d actually released the devil instead of stopping him!”  
  
He could barely remember what Sam looked like.  Was he blonde or did he have brown hair?  What color were his eyes?  …What did he look like?  
  
“You should give in, Dean.  It’s much easier if you do,” Rossa said simply after she’d finished torching his body.  She said the same thing every day for the past, he couldn’t even remember how long.  
  
His answer grew weaker with each passing day, “No.”  
  
And it started all over again, the chains digging into his flesh and stringing him up so that Rossa could work her magic on him.  His resolve faded more and he wondered why he was fighting.  What was wrong with giving in?  
  
But today was different.  He hung there, waiting, but Rossa didn’t show.  The relief didn’t last long, unfortunately.  
  
“Sorry for the wait, my dear,” Rossa leered as she approached.  If Dean didn’t know any better, he’d say she seemed shaken.  But she lifted the blade and with a determination he hadn’t seen yet, she began carving and peeling away his flesh.  
  
“Dean!” someone shouted his name, but it wasn’t Rossa.  He felt like he should know the voice, but the pain was wracking his brain.  Couldn’t focus on anything.  Until the pain stopped and someone else was screaming.  Someone that wasn’t him.  Usually, the screams of other souls around him were drowned out by his own.  But this scream sounded close, really close.  
  
He opened his eyes, hadn’t realized they were closed.  Rossa was lying on ground, dead.  A bright figure with black wings hovered over her before turning its attention on him.  He groused, “Come to try and break me?  Too fuckin’ bad.”  
  
The figure approached and he could swear he recognized the face that stared back at him.  “Dean,” it said softly, with an emotion Dean couldn’t place.  Hadn’t seen or felt anything other than anger and despair since… Had he always been here?  
  
Come to think of it, why hadn’t he just given in?  What was the point of fighting?  At least then there would be an end to all of this misery and pain.  He wouldn’t suffer anymore.  
  
“Dean,” the voice was stronger this time.  “I’ve come to save you.”  
  
He didn’t believe it.  It was just some new trick to break him.  He felt a sudden burst of defiance, not wanting to become a demon.  They were evil and he wasn’t.  It wasn’t a memory, but some sort of impression he felt.  He knew he’d fought demons once, could feel it.  And he wasn’t going to give in, wouldn’t let the demons trick him into joining their ranks.  
  
So he struggled against the creature, straining away from its touch.  He didn’t believe for a second that this creature was here to save him.  
  
Even when the chains were pulled away and he was left a crumpled mess in the creature’s arms, too tired to do anything more than futilely push away.  
  
Even when a too-hot hand pressed against his shoulder, searing into his flesh before every trace of pain disappeared.  
  
Even as the horrific sights of hell passed by in a blur, demons shouting in anger and souls screaming in pain, he still didn’t believe it.  
  
He couldn’t.  Because if this was a trick, it would break him.  
  
“Jeez, Cassy,” a voice pierced through his thoughts.  “Cutting it a bit close, don’t you think?”  
  
“Balthazar,” the first voice scolded, though sounding much weaker than when he’d first heard it.  How long had he been by this creature’s side?  It seemed a long time, flying through hell in the thing’s arms.  
  
“Alright, I get it.”  
  
And then darkness swarmed him.  
  
An irritating beeping sound caught his attention, pulling him from his sleep.  He tried to open his eyes, but his lids felt heavy.  He managed after a long minute and all he saw was white.  White ceiling, white walls.  There were a few machines to his left and he realized he was in a hospital.  
  
He groaned.  
  
A rush of movement from his right surprised him.  Sam was suddenly hovering over him, eyes wide and full of hope.  He had a huge ass grin plastered on his face, “Dean!”  
  
And before he knew it, he was trapped in a bear hug.  “Okay, let me go,” he said, voice barely above a whisper, throat hoarse.  “Water,” Dean tried again, feeling an overwhelming need for something to drink.  
  
Sam frowned in confusion before understanding hit him.  He disappeared and a second later, had a cup with a straw held to Dean’s lips.  He drank greedily, like he hadn’t had anything to drink in years, his mouth was that dry.  
  
“How…” Dean started after a long moment.  “How’d I get out?”  
  
“You don’t remember?”  When Dean didn’t say anything, Sam continued, “Castiel saved you.  Took him a month, but he did it.”  
  
“It’s only been a month?” There was no way.  He’d been there for years, he could have sworn.  It had to have been more than just a month.  
  
Sam’s brows shot up in surprise.  He was dying to ask how Dean was, what had happened.  But he knew his brother would clam up about it and get pissed off.  So he decided he’d wait.  Let Dean tell him on his own time, if he wanted to.  “Yeah.”  
  
Dean kept quiet.  His time in hell had certainly felt longer than a month.  Felt like years, if he were honest.  Someone had pulled him out, though, had saved him.  All he really remembered were black wings, something with black wings killing Rossa.  And then he woke up in the hospital bed.  
  
“Where is he?” he suddenly remembered Sam saying that Castiel had brought him back.  It didn’t make sense.  Castiel’s wings were white, he’d never forget that.  
  
“Back in Heaven.  Wanted to tell you sorry about that,” Sam nodded.  
  
“About what?”  He followed his brother’s gaze to his left shoulder.  Peeking out from under the sleeve of the hospital gown was an angry red welt.  He pulled up the sleeve, eyes widening.  Covering most of his shoulder was a reddened handprint.  It was similar to the one Castiel had.  
  
“Huh.”  
  
Dean sat on the hood of his car a few days later.  The early June weather was warm, even with night rapidly approaching.  He shed his outer shirt, clad only in a pair of jeans and T-shirt.  He took a drink of his beer, finishing off the bottle and tossing on the ground.  He’d pick it up later, but right now he just wanted to enjoy the night.  
  
“It’s been so long since we’ve done this,” Sam said from his right and Dean glanced at him.  He was looking up at the sky, watching as the stars stretched across the sky.  “Just, hanging out, ya know?”  
  
Dean hummed in agreement.  It’d been too long if he were honest.  He couldn’t remember the last time it’d been since there was no case to work, no pressure of an apocalypse hanging over them, nothing.  It was just him and Sam.  
  
“Remember the last time we were here?” Dean commented as he leaned back a bit, staring upwards.  Since waking up in the hospital, he’d had the urge to come here.  Would’ve come sooner, but Dr. Garrison wouldn’t let him leave right away.  
  
Sam looked over at Dean, “We’ve been here before?” he asked in slight wonder.  He searched his memory, trying to find why it looked familiar.  They’d pulled off on a side road and parked at the edge of a small, open field that was surrounded by trees.  There were no city lights that clogged the sky and the stars were bright in the sky.  
  
“Dude, how can you not remember?” Dean gaped, stunned that Sam didn’t remember something for once.  Kid was usually damn good at remembering stuff like that.  At the blank look he received, he sighed.  “Fourth of July, back in ’96.”  
  
A slow smile spread across Sam’s face as the memory returned.  He’d been thirteen and Dean had driven them out here with a box of fireworks.  Dad was off on some hunt, like always, so they had celebrated without him.  It was something they’d never done before, since Dean hadn’t been old enough to drive and dad have given him the Impala for his seventeenth birthday.  “Yeah,” he nodded, looking up at the sky, remembering how the bright colors had lit the sky.  
  
Dean chuckled, shaking his head.  
  
The fluttering of wings had them jumping off the Impala and turning to find the source of the noise.  The last time he’d heard that sound, Castiel had left him.  Dean hoped it was the angel, missed the featherhead like crazy, though he wasn’t gonna admit it.  Not to mention, they had some talking to do.  Guy saved him then turned tail and ran.  
  
Spotting a short, familiar figure, Dean held back his groan.  
  
“Gabriel?” Sam asked, surprised to see the archangel.  He hadn’t seen him in a couple weeks, since he’d randomly visited Dean in the hospital.  
  
“The one and only!” the blond grinned and bowed dramatically.  When he straightened, he glanced around as he approached the brothers.  “Nice and outdoorsy.  I have a surprise for you, Dean Winchester,” he changed the subject.  
  
Dean frowned.  He didn’t like the sound of that.  Last time he dealt with the archangel, it’d been a “how many times can I kill Dean?” disaster.  If it hadn’t been for Castiel…  
  
He tried the shove the thought of the angel away.  Dude pulled him outta hell, then had the balls to just ignore Dean.  Hadn’t shown his face since.  And he was not being whiny, despite what Sam had said.  
  
“What’re you on about?” Dean accused but the ex-trickster just gave him that cocky grin that made Dean want to punch the guy.  
  
Gabriel made a show of snapping his fingers.  Dean had the strange sensation of movement, like shooting downhill on a rollercoaster, and when he opened his eyes, he was standing in the middle of a hotel room.  
  
At least, he assumed it was a hotel room.  It was definitely nicer than any he’d ever been in.  There was a couch and a couple chairs centered around a flat screen television, offset by a tiled fireplace.  Behind the TV were floor to ceiling windows that overlooked a city that suspiciously looked like…  
  
“Vegas?” Dean’s eyes widened as he approached the windows.  There was a sliding door that led to a private patio, decked out with a built in hot tub surrounded by lounge chairs.  But that was definitely Las Vegas.  The neon lights were bright against the dark sky, so much different than the stars he’d seen only a few minutes ago.  
  
“What the hell is he thinking?” he murmured as he spun around.  He was completely alone in the room and irritation built.  
  
Who knew what that crazy idiot was doing to Sam?  
  
The new angle of the room showed a modern kitchen and small dining room, and a set of French doors that were shut.  He approached kitchenette cautiously, noticing a piece of paper on the counter.  He reached for it.  
  


_Dean-o,_

_Thought you could use a vacation.  You’ve got the room for a week, everything’s paid for.  Don’t worry, I’ll keep Sammy-boy entertained!_

_Your amazingly awesome friend,_

_Gabriel_

_P.S. Your surprise is in the bedroom!_

  
  
The paper crumpled in his grasp and he tossed it onto the counter.  He seriously doubted that.  It was Gabriel, for crying out loud!  The last time he’d done anything nice for him was back when he was still just a Trickster, bribing the hunters to let him go by using a pair of very attractive scantily clad women.  And that was followed by being attacked by a man with a chainsaw.  His gaze returned to the French doors and he slowly pushed open the door, mentally bracing himself for whatever could be inside.  
  
A large, king-sized bed was centered on the west wall and the north wall continued with the giant windows.  There was a small couch by the windows, and a television was mounted on the wall opposite the bed.  But none of that matter because his gaze focused on the bed.  
  
Or rather, the person sitting in the middle of it.  
  
“Cas?”  He could have sworn the angel’s wings were white, but the appendages that lay spread out on either side of the man were a smoky black, contrasting with the white comforter of the bed.  
  
“Dean,” the angel breathed in confusion, looking around the room quickly before settling his gaze on the hunter.  “Where are we?  The last thing I remember…”  
  
“Gabriel?” Dean suggested and Castiel nodded slowly.  The hunter took a seat on the edge of the bed, careful not to touch the wings, even though he wanted to.  They looked ridiculously soft and he had to stop that train of thought.  “Yeah, well, any idea of what he’s up to?”  
  
“No,” Castiel answered softly.  After he’d returned Dean’s soul to his body, he’d left immediately to recuperate.  The wounds he’d sustained while in hell had drained him.  His wings still showed the darkness that he’d experience in hell, once-white feathers blackened.  They’d likely remain that way, though Castiel didn’t mind.  It would forever serve as a reminder for what he’d done.  
  
He watched as Dean sat down next to him, noting the interest in the hunter’s eyes as he gazed over his wings.  He looked well, healthy.  “How are you?” Castiel asked, his left wing reaching out to embrace the man.  
  
The man tensed briefly as a feather grazed his arm.  His mouth dropped open and he started to reach for the wing, then stopped.  Instead of an answer, Dean returned, “Where’ve you been?”  He hated sounding like a scorned chick, but honestly, he kind of felt like it.  The guy just up and left him and Sam, and things had felt like they’d spiraled down after that.  
  
Castiel looked towards the television.  “Raphael intercepted me,” he started before telling the hunter about his interrogation, how Gabriel had stopped him, who the Righteous Man was.  
  
“No,” Dean denied.  Sam had already told him this much, but he hadn’t truly believed his brother until now, hearing it from Castiel’s lips.  
  
The angel nodded his head solemnly.  “When I killed Lilith, the mission was over.”  
  
A questioned popped into his head, one that had been bugging him ever since Sam had told him what happened, “But you came after me anyway.  Why bother?”  
  
Castiel leaned in close to the taller man, noses almost brushing.  “I wasn’t sure what drove me at first.  I just knew that I needed to save you.  You took me in when all reason told you not to, that I wasn’t to be trusted.  But when I saw you on the rack, I knew why I did what I’d done.”  
  
The confidence in Castiel’s voice had Dean opening his eyes, staring into blue for an answer.  “I love you, Dean Winchester.”  
  
He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips.  Dean had waited three lifetimes for an angel to say that, but in the end it turned out he hadn’t needed it.  Because the mark on his chest had vanished once he’d woken up in that hospital room.  Only mar on his skin was the handprint on his shoulder.  
  
He guessed he really had needed the angel.  Because if Castiel didn’t love him, then he’d still be in hell at Rossa’s mercy.  Maybe a vocalization of the angel’s love for him was unnecessary, if he realized it in the Pit.  Maybe just the fact that the angel loved him was enough.  
  
Castiel pulled away in confusion.  In the few movies he’d seen on the television at Bobby’s, none of characters had laughed when their partner confessed their love.  “I don’t understand…”  
  
Dean smiled and pulled Castiel in close, their foreheads pressed against each other.  “I’m a free man, Cas.  And your brother has graciously given us this awesome room,” he waggled his eyebrows, and with that, Dean kissed his angel, pouring every emotion he could into the kiss.  
  
[](http://piraninjedi.livejournal.com/pics/catalog/1542/1445)


End file.
